Cross Life
by RantingFangirl
Summary: Given the choice to change his ways or face the consequences, Arthur is propelled from urban England to the American suburbs, putting up with all the drama, pettiness, and idiots that go with it.
1. The Start of Hell

The rain, Arthur decided, was truly the same as it was back home. It fell in sheets as if someone had turned on a tap, onto him, the concrete sidewalk, the nearby houses, the squishy grass, everywhere.

He didn't know why he thought it would be different. Rain was what it was- rain. Water that fell from the sky. But everything, it seemed, was different in America. The people, customs, accents. Hell, even the language had its little shifts. So why wouldn't the rain be different as well, Arthur had figured.

But it wasn't, he told himself as he blindly walked into a puddle. He cursed as water splashed onto his leather boots. Water soaked the bottom of his trousers and he shivered as the wet fabric settled against his skin.

No, it was definitely wasn't different at all. He smiled faintly. The lucky few bouts of rain each month would be all he had left of home, being in this miserable country.

He looked up, spotting a house that he could just barely recognize. The driveway was empty, save for the two rental cars his parents had gotten until they would buy new ones. Ones with steering wheels on the left side instead of the right. The moving truck, he noticed, had left, and had probably been gone for a long while.

Who knew how long Arthur had been away. What had started out as a simple walk to escape the movers and his family quickly turned into a one-man tour of the neighborhood, no destination in sight in the winding maze of cookie-cutter houses. He could have sworn he had passed the same lemon yellow house at least three times.

He walked up the driveway, trying his best to discreetly avoid the puddles, though he knew no one was watching. Loud music played from the neighboring house, filling the quiet street with noise. Arthur couldn't make out the individual words clearly but could tell that it wasn't in English. He sighed, slouching his back, already dreading living here.

Cringing at the ugly faded blue of his front door, he noted to himself to persuade his parents into getting it repainted. He put his hand on the doorknob, slowly turning and pushing the door, careful not to make a sound.

Boxes were piled high like small towers. Some of them were already opened, as if someone began to empty them, only to be stopped in favor of something else. The hardwood flooring was coated with a thin layer of dust and dirt, only visible from the faint light from the windows.

He closed the door with a small click, immediately taking in the wonderful smell of tea. They had not been in this house a full day, and the kettle was already out. He should've expected it.

Arthur moved, hoping to find the stairs quickly. The sooner he could lock himself in his room, the better. His parents were the last people he wanted to see at the moment. He would do anything for some peace. Quiet. Well, as much as he could get with the fools next door.

He took a sharp right, eyes focusing on the wooden stairs and the wooden stairs only. Arthur was there, just about to put his foot on the first step and hand on the railing and-

"Arthur."

He froze, cursing to himself as he turned slowly. He didn't even bother to put a pleasant expression on his face.

His parents sat on the couch, both with steaming mugs of tea in their hands. They were surrounded by boxes, and Arthur couldn't help but smirk at the thought that they looked like cardboard soldiers guarding their monarchs. His mother's wispy blonde hair framed her face, her freckled skin crinkling as she pushed it out of her eyes. He couldn't tell if the look of disdain was pointed at him, or the hair. His father's expression was, of course, unreadable. Had been that way as long and far as he could remember.

Arthur raised his eyebrow, trying to convey that he would rather be somewhere else than listen to whatever they were going to say. Sometimes, when luck decided that it would grace him with its presence, upon seeing the look his parents would huff, puff, and tell him to go away. Other times, they would stay persistent and Arthur would just have to wallow in his misery. He sincerely hoped today was the former.

"Sit," his mother said, nodding towards the chair across from them. His father stayed silent, eyes following him as Arthur begrudgingly obeyed. He slid into the chair, leaning to the side to prop his head against his fist. He slackened his face in an attempt to look as bored and indifferent as possible.

He took a moment to get comfortable, assuming that this conversation was going to be long. Unlacing his boots, he pulled them off and dropped them to the floor, crossing his legs on the seat of the chair. Arthur ignored the disapproving stare of his mother. When he finally went still, his father started.

"Your mother and I have been worried about you. For quite a while, actually."

Arthur watched his mother nod in agreement, the temptation to roll his eyes growing as the sentence went on. He already knew how this would go. It happened at least once every other month back home. His parents would sit him down, talk about how he was "starting on a dangerous path". They would make empty promises about how everything was going to change, that they would make sure it would, only to forget them until the next talk, and blame Arthur for the failures of said promises. It was a cycle with no plans to stop, and Arthur was sure it wouldn't until the day his parents dropped dead.

His mother leaned forward, a small, reassuring smile on her pale face. "You see, Artie, we just want the best for you. We've always had-" The cycle was, indeed, like clockwork "-And lately, you just haven't been like I know you and-"

Arthur could sense it. One of his mother's signature pity parties was on its way, and he had to stop it. He had sworn to himself years ago that he would never get into those messes ever again. "Oh, and how is it, dear mother, do you know me?"

The glare his father sent him was one he would've knelt and begged for forgiveness at the sight of as a child, but now, he just ignored it. He kept his stare on his mother, who was looking at him as if he had grown two extra heads out of his shoulders. She leaned back against the couch, her brow lowered and her mouth gaping. Arthur almost had the nerve to laugh at how stupid she looked.

"W-well, I know my sweet little son who would beg for me to read to him at night, not some disrespectful punk who hides more things from me than a spy would." She went on and on, Arthur tuning it out around when she began to rant about his primary school years. He hadn't asked his mother to read to him since he was in year five. Why she chose to bring it up now, he had no clue.

"Arthur, listen to your mother."

He raised his head, setting his chin on his palm and lifting his eyebrows. His father's voice was gruff, cutting through his mother's words, which only earned him an annoyed glance. But her eyes then flashed, probably realizing something that she would only use as more ammo against Arthur. She turned to him, her brow creased and mouth gaping just like it had been before.

"Don't ignore me when I'm speaking to you. You see, this is your problem-" Arthur just barely stifled a groan and knew that there would be no getting out of this one "-You're disrespectful. You were rude to your teachers back in the UK, you're rude to us, you have no bounds. And to be honest, when I received complaints from your teachers, I would feel quite ashamed and that feeling would go on through the entire day, or the entire week, depending on what foolish thing you had decided to do that time."

She let out a shaky breath, leaning forward to take a long gulp from the mug she had been nursing. His father patted her on the back, and the two shared supportive smiles.

Arthur watched the entire exchange, eyebrows lifted and reflecting the same disgust he would have if he were watching a cheesy romantic comedy. His parents ignored him, and for a second Arthur thought that he was free, that he could finally be able to leave. He sat up, getting ready to dart out of the room, and was just about to stand before-

"Arthur Kirkland. And just where do you think you're going? We've not finished."

He flopped back with a huff, crossing his arms. The thought of taking the risk to bolt to his new room and lock the door seemed tempting. He decided against it, knowing that if he did, his father would grab him before he even reached the first step. Even at his age, the man was too fast for Arthur to outrun.

"Look, dear, your father and I are just... concerned. About your behavior in recent years. So now that we're in America, we've decided to make some... changes." She chose each word carefully as if he were some toddler who would blow into a fit of yelling and screaming and throwing.

Arthur snorted. "And what changes would those be?" Family meetings had failed before that had even month drawn to a close, as he had always bailed before anyone could get to the living room. A "swear jar", where ever they got that stupid idea, found to be an even bigger disaster for his parents. It wasn't his fault that he found a better use for the money. It was theirs for leaving it sitting on a kitchen counter, vulnerable and ripe for the taking.

"We thought, that if you were to dress respectably, and be surrounded by respectable books, music, and the like, you maybe could turn into a somewhat respectable and decent person." She shrugged at the last part as if this were some big experiment.

Arthur narrowed his eyes. The idea was foolish, and he hated it already. Sure, the concept was maybe plausible, but in practice, it would be the exact opposite. He knew there was something else to it. "But..."

"But," his father continued, "knowing that this is you that we're talking about, no matter what we tell you, you'll keep doing whatever you want."

Well, at least they got that right. He would find ways to get out of this, and he would figure them out fast. Arthur had always been resourceful and crafty, trained from years spent living with his parents and brothers.

His mother leaned forward, smirking. "So, we'll just have to force you to do as we want."

Arthur slowly raised his head, lifting an eyebrow. "What?" Were they going to watch him as he dressed? Check his backpack for spare clothing that does not comply with their standards? Pat him down before he left and after he returned home from school? When will they realize that nothing will work and he'll just find a way to weasel out of it, as he's done with all their plans in the past?

A small, almost wicked smile formed on his mother's face, as if she were about to relish every single word she'd say. "Well, my dear, there are these little organizations that decent people are well familiar with, I'll tell you since you wouldn't know. They're called charities, love."

He rolled his eyes, taking a deep breath and letting it out. Choosing not to comment at the insult she threw at him, he waved for her to continue.

"You see, Arthur, a charity is where people donate things, such as money or supplies, and it is-"

"Jesus Christ mum, I know what a damn charity is."

"-donated to those who need it. Who gets what all really depends on the mission of the charity."

She stood, walking to the corner of the room to grab a large, red bag. Arthur watched as she walked back to her seat on the sofa, and looked at him, pausing.

"Also, one, don't interrupt me, it's disrespectful. Two, don't curse at me. Also disrespectful."

Muttering something under her breath that sounded awfully like, "I swear I don't know where you get it from," she started to dig through her bag. Arthur took the time to glare at his father, who had snorted at his mother's previous mocking statements.

If he were to be honest, he expected it coming. The woman had never tolerated those who thought it appropriate to begin a sentence in the middle of hers. It was one of the only aspects of her that he admired, in a way, even if he was sometimes on the receiving end of the scoldings.

With a quiet, "Aha!", she pulled out a folder paper. She tossed it to Arthur, who opened it to see few colors mixed with large, bolded lettering.

Reading it, he scoffed and looked up, slowly waving the flyer in the air. "Really? A homeless shelter? What are we going to do with that?"

His father circled his tea mug as if it were a glass of whiskey or fine wine. "You weren't the only one who went on a trip after our arrival."

When did they find the time to do that? To leave the maze that is their new neighborhood, into a jungle of glass and stone and strange people, only to find a flyer for a homeless shelter and then come back? Arthur supposed that he had been gone for a while, an hour and a half at the very least. Had they not wondered where he had gone, worried that he was lost- which he had been- or that he got kidnapped or something?

They must have sensed his confusion, for his father leaned back, laying one arm on the back of the sofa, saying, "Don't look at me like that. How else do you think we would've gotten the tea?" He huffed at his joke, ignoring Arthur's raised eyebrow.

Putting her hand on her husband's thigh, his mother gave him an exasperated look, before returning her attention to Arthur. "Anyways, we thought that maybe we could take some- no, most, actually, of your-" She looked him up and down, cringing in disgust "-clothing, if you could even call it that, and donate it to these poor souls in need."

Arthur froze, shoulders tensing and back stiff. Slowly, and without any regard to how it might be considered, "What do you mean, 'most'?"

They looked at each other, nodding. He wondered how long they had been planning this. Was it before they moved? On the plane? Or was this all just a spur of the moment while they were on a tea run?

"You will only be keeping the clothes we approve of."

"No. Absolutely not." If he had let them have their way, it would be possibly the largest headache he would ever experience in his life. Only one or two shirts, maybe a few pairs of trousers, would be left. He would have to say goodbye to his piercings, as they would likely be the first things to go. At his mother's hands, his wardrobe would be completely annihilated within the first twenty minutes.

His father's voice was blunt. "You don't get a say in this."

"Well, I should!"

Honestly. What have them the right to think that they could do this? To meddle in his life in such an extreme manner? This had to be their most ridiculous idea yet.

His mother huffed, lifting her mug to take a sip. She then rested it on her lap, slouching and using one hand to hold the mug, and the other to pinch the bridge of her nose. "Arthur, you need to realize that we've your best interests-"

"'We have your best interests in mind' my arse!" He could hear a faint giggling from upstairs but neglected it in favor of shooting his nastiest glare towards his parents.

"Do not. Interrupt me. We do have your best interests in mind, whether you believe it or not. This will help you stay out of trouble. Your father and I both know that you were drinking and smoking back in the UK. It'll lead to drugs, then theft, then prison."

Arthur tried to give the two his best 'are you seriously that stupid' look. Dressing the way they wanted him to was not going to keep him out of trouble. His 'awful behavior', as they often put it, was not a product of how he dressed. They were blowing this out of proportion. "Mum... I'm not going to prison."

His father took a long sip from his mug. "You don't know that."

Arthur lifted his voice, trying to deliver a point. "Yes, I do. I can assure you both that I will never, ever step foot in a prison. Ever."

"Oh, I'm sure that's what they all told their poor mothers before they got themselves arrested. My natural born intuition tells me that you will be behind bars before the age of thirty at the rate you're going. Arthur Kirkland, don't give me that look. We're in America now. They have more prisons than they do colleges, you know. There'll surely be enough room for you."

Arthur threw his head back, staring at the ceiling, and let out a loud groan that lasted for several seconds. When finished, he slumped forward, letting his head hang to stare at the floor.

When he finally looked up, both his parents were watching him, eyebrows raised in a silent, "have you finished yet?" But no, he was not. Arthur was willing to throw a tantrum if it was needed to get out of this fiery mess his parents had most likely concocted on a simple whim. He was ready to do anything, even if it would make him look like a three-year-old toddler denied a nap. Or Peter. Whatever it would take, he was willing to do.

His mother slapped her hands on her thighs, having the nerve to look quite pleased with herself. "Well then, that's all we wanted to tell you. You're free to leave to your room if that is what you wish. We'll go look for some new clothing for you tomorrow, okay?" She leaned forward, pushing against the cushion and armrest to stand.

Arthur froze, furrowing his brow. They hadn't- there was no way- "What do you mean, 'tomorrow'?"

She paused, sliding back onto the sofa. "Just what I said. Tomorrow." She and her husband exchanged a look before he stood and left the room, leaving her attention to turn back towards Arthur. "We would like to get this up and running as soon as possible."

They couldn't seriously- "B-but school starts in two weeks. We still have boxes to unpack."

"Okay, and? Arthur, whatever you are trying to do to stop this from happening isn't going to work. Your father and I- we're actually committed to seeing this through."

"I won't do it. You can't make me." He was desperate. And he didn't even know why. As soon as he left this house for college he could go back to the way he currently was. But something just made him object and lash out.

"Yes, we can." She stood, walking over to him. Looking to see if anyone was watching, she bent down. Her face was close to his and he could feel her breath on his face as she whispered. "I don't think your father wants you to hear this just yet, but if you haven't changed at the end of your- what do the Americans call it- senior year, we're going to cut you off. And... I really don't want that to happen. So please."

Going back to her full height, she patted his shoulder. Raising her voice so the other room could hear it, she said, "You need to realize that we're doing this for you, and the quicker you do, the better this will work out- for all of us." She ruffled his hair and left the room.

Arthur didn't hear that last part and didn't turn to watch as she went to join his father in box cutting and sorting. All he heard, again and again, was what she whispered to him.

Cutting him off. He shuddered at the thought. They had done it to his eldest brother, Alisdair, for about two months as punishment for some crime he had long forgotten. His parents removed pictures he was in, stopped talking about him, and didn't answer his calls. They would act ignorant if someone mentioned him, claiming that they didn't know anything. Alisdair, for two months, became a stranger to the Kirkland family.

Arthur wondered if his brothers would reach out to him if his parents did decide to cut him off. Maybe the consequences would be too great for them to risk it.

He stood, head buzzing as if it were filled with a hive of bees. His parents, they were actually serious. With all their failed attempts, they had decided that they were finally going to crack down. After all this time.

He climbed the stairs, not bothering to look at the two. Turning the corner, he began the tedious search for his room. The hallway, bare of any photos or paintings, was lined with identical white doors, giving no clue as to what was inside. He walked through each one, immediately leaving once he saw that none of the boxes had his name on them.

One of the doors was opened, and Arthur peeked inside. There, digging through the boxes as if they were recently discovered treasure, was his brat of a brother, Peter. Pausing at the sound of Arthur's footsteps, the tiny fool turned, and the two stared at each other for several seconds. It was broken, however, when Peter walked up and slammed the door shut, bidding Arthur farewell with a stuck-out tongue.

He snorted, noting to himself to hide the boy's sailor hat one day this month. That would surely get him to shriek like the little hellion he was.

Turning, he strolled to the only room he had not been in. Sure enough, it was filled with boxes, like all the others, yet each of these had "Art" scrawled in black marker.

He slowly rotated his head, taking in his surroundings. The room was a bright green, one you would expect from grass on a hot summer's day. The dark hardwood only made the painted walls pop. It was nice, he supposed. The window was wide, and if the sky hadn't been so dark and moody, light would've flooded in and filled the room.

Arthur looked out the window, scowling at the neighboring house. It was the one that had been blasting music earlier and still, in fact, was. He knew he would have many sleepless nights, and hoped that the neighbors had mercy to turn it down in the later hours.

An idea popped into his mind and Arthur could almost feel the light bulb flaring. Grabbing a box cutter, he began to haphazardly open and dig through boxes. Eventually, with clothes that were soon to be gone and various books littering the floor, he found what he was looking for.

He lifted it, loosely wrapping the hanging cord around his arm, letting it slip off when he drop it on his bare bed. Arthur stepped over to the window, struggling a bit to open it as wide as it could go. Rain ran in, Arthur cursing as it hit his damp clothing, and he immediately slammed the window back down. With a sigh, he figured he would just have to have it loud enough.

Plugging the cord into the first electrical outlet he saw, Arthur popped open a CD container. He roughly shoved it in and pressed "play".

Music filled the room, growing louder as he pressed the volume button over and over again. He bobbed his head to the beat, striding over to close and lock the door just in time for a series of muffled shouts and bangs. He ignored it, moving over to the nearest open box to unpack.

As he arranged his bookshelf, genre then alphabetical order by author's last name, listening to crude punk music in rebellion to his new neighbors and ignoring the frustrated grumbles of his little brother, Arthur Kirkland worried over the outcome of the mess he had managed to get himself into.

* * *

I'll try to update this every Sunday, though the key word is try. I just want to say, that if I didn't have help from a wonderful group of friends of mine, this story would be filled with stereotypical slang and the like. So a great big thank you to them!

If you see any character in this story that is OOC, please tell me. Also, if I'm overkill with the description or something like that, don't be afraid to tell me that as well!

I hope you have a wonderful morning, day, and evening!


	2. FuzzyBrows

He tsked as the edge of his fingernail chipped off. A small bit of blood oozed from underneath the nail and he brought it to his tongue, licking it. It had happened enough the past two weeks that he was used to it, the sharp stings turning into a dull pulsing he dealt with.

When his parents had said "respectable", the word "comfortable" was not included in their definition. The white dress shirt he wore was stiff, and pairing it with a muted green vest that seemed to be made specifically for his misery… it was torture. His dress pants never seemed to fit the way his skinny jeans did, and it irked him to feel the extra, unnecessary fabric hang off his calves. The loafers were perhaps the worst. Arthur winced at the thought of the blisters that would be on his toes and heels, and even more at the thought of having to put the shoes back on the next day.

Arthur had hoped, had even thought about praying, with all his heart that he lived in an area of a high school with uniforms. Just so he wouldn't have to wear the clothes his mother picked out for him. Even if she had taken five hours going store to store, forcing Arthur to go with her and try each and every article on, he didn't care. He wanted them off and to never wear them again.

But these days, luck had been giving him two fingers.

Adjusting his backpack, which seemed to be the weight of a boulder, he started to walk towards a particular entrance, a sign displaying "OFFICE" nailed next to it. Looking around, he saw the wide eyes and gaped mouths of those he assumed to be in year ten, or freshmen, as they called them here. Though he would never admit it, he could sympathize with their fear.

The school was huge, three buildings and two floors huge, as he had learned from eavesdropping on a whispered, terror-filled conversation. And though the day had not officially begun, Arthur knew that he was going to be late to most, if not all, of his classes.

He pushed open a glass door, eyes scanning a counter piled with computers, papers, and administrators. He walked up to one with messy brown hair gathered in a bun. She scowled as he approached, blowing a wisp of hair out of her glasses and propping her head against her palm.

"If you don't have a schedule, you were supposed to take the one you got from orientation and bring it here today. If you need anything else, tell me." She turned her head down, bringing her attention back to the monitor in front of her.

Arthur raised an eyebrow, glaring at the woman. The stereotypes and what he had gathered from department store employees about all Americans being cheery rays of sunshine had gone out the window. He understood that she might be tired- hell, who wasn't these days- but that didn't mean she had to be like that. She worked at with people. Represented the school to all who came in its doors.

He considered chewing her out, at least making a comment on her rudeness, but decided it wasn't worth the effort. He made his voice blunt, lifting his upper lip in a sneer, "I'm new here."

The woman sat up, eyes widening as she leaned back against her chair. She opened her mouth, "I-", before shutting it. She rolled her eyes and huffed, mumbling something about children these days showing no respect to adults and how they'll get what's coming to them. "What grade are you in?"

"Uh-" he racked through the nooks and crannies of his memory, trying to remember that one word "-senior. I'm a senior."

The woman nodded slowly. "'kay, you will be going there-" she pointed to a door behind her "- over to Mr. Beilschmidt's office. He's the senior vice principal."

"Thanks…"

Arthur trudged behind the counter, fidgeting as the hard tile turned to an equally hard carpet. Although he had been in offices what seemed like millions of times, usually with written up slips of paper, they always managed to make him uneasy.

Straightening his back, relaxing his shoulders, raising his chin, and putting on his best "game face", as many had dubbed it, Arthur ignored those behind him, namely the woman glaring daggers and arrows to his back, and turned and pushed the handle to the office.

His eyes widened a fraction as he stepped through the door. The walls were painted white, though it was brighter and clearer than the tile. A desk sat in the middle, three file cabinets backing it and two chairs in front of it. A single black picture frame sat next to a computer monitor, along with a mess of papers and stray pens and pencils. The only color in the room was the green of a tiny cactus, which he could only tell was real by the "do not touch" posted note stuck to its container. The room was bland. Impersonal.

When the man sitting at the desk looked up, suit and dress shirt without a wrinkle, face cold with a silent expression of "what the hell do you want?", Arthur knew that they were going to have some problems with each other. He had never gotten along- hated, really- with a certain type of people, those who valued rule and order over everything else. And this man, Mr. Beilschmidt, the rude woman had called him, with gelled and slicked back hair, though much longer than it normally was, definitely fit the type.

"A woman out there-" he turned back towards the door, if only to prevent him from sneering "- told me to come in here and-"

His voice cut through Arthur's words like a hot knife does with butter. "Is this your first day here at this school?"

"Er- yes."

Beilschmidt nodded, rolling his chair back to a file cabinet. He pulled open the middle drawer, beginning to dig through its contents. "Sit."

Arthur started forward, strolling over to one of the chairs sitting in front of the desk, and slid in. He dropped his backpack to the side with a thump, crossing his legs and arms. He sat, back slouching, as he watched Beilschmidt.

A yellow paper flew towards him, bouncing off his chest and falling in the space between him and the edge of the desk. Arthur picked it up, looking over the paper with a raised eyebrow. The lines, the numbers, and the- "My lord, this school is huge," he breathed.

Beilschmidt breathed air out from his nose harshly, and Arthur supposed that that was the only type of laughter anyone would receive from him. If you could even call it laughter. "You get used to it. Learn shortcuts to get from place to place." Beilschmidt leaned forward, grabbing and uncapping a pen. "The office- where we are, at the moment, is here-" he circled an "L" shaped block "the courtyard. where many students choose to eat lunch, is right next to us-" he circled a block to the right of the "L" "-and your classes are-" Beilschmidt looked up, brow raising expectantly. "Let me see your schedule."

Arthur raised his brow in response, tightening his arms together and bopping his crossed foot up and down. "I've not gotten one." One would think that he would know that Arthur wouldn't have one, considering that he had told him a little more than five minutes prior that it was his first day.

Beilschmidt sighed, hanging his head down and rubbing the bridge of his nose. He sat up straight, folding his fingers together. "What's your name?"

"Arthur Kirkland," he drawled.

Beilschmidt turned to his computer, clicking once-twice-three times. "Traditional spelling?"

"Yes. How else would it be spelled?" Arthur wondered how many times the man had typed in a name, only for it to have a modern or cultural twist to it. Too many times, if him asking had given any evidence.

He typed in a quick burst that had Arthur's eyes widening and was once again clicking at his mouse. Beilschmidt slowly leaned back, folding his arms and resting them on the back of his neck. His eyes darted back and forth, nodding a bit, reading whatever was on it. It must've been interesting, considering the few glances towards Arthur's direction.

The sound of the printer starting up startled Arthur, making him jump in his seat with a soft and short gasp. Beilschmidt huffed again, an amused smirk forming. "Get that for me."

With a scowl, Arthur stood, walking over to the printer. It sat in the corner, on a table with stacks and stacks of spare paper surrounding it. He grabbed the lone paper out of its mouth, feeling satisfaction at its warmth.

He strolled back over to Beilschmidt, handing him the schedule. The man scanned it, tilting his head down, up, down, up, before handing it to Arthur. "This look about right?"

He didn't know. When his mother had gone to do his paperwork and choose his classes, she left Arthur behind to "sulk in his room," as she had so eloquently put it. Looking down, reading box after box, he supposed she didn't do too bad of a job, until-

"Choir?" Arthur looked up, nose crinkling.

Beilschmidt raised an eyebrow. "Your mother said you had some experience if I remember correctly. And we could always use another person in the bass or tenor sections, whatever you are."

Arthur nodded in agreement, still staring at the schedule, though on the inside he was screaming. Throwing a toddler-like tantrum. His mother had signed him up for the choir. After years of telling her his hatred for it. And while he knew how to read music, he was slow and would surely fall behind the others, but she signed him up anyways. He almost requested to be taken out.

He must've been at least a little open about his newfound issue, for Beilschmidt cleared his throat. "You don't need to worry about anything. Mr. Vargas is an exceptional director and has been for many years. If you have any troubles, he would surely be able to help. It's his job to do so."

A bell rang, a warning bell, Beilschmidt had called it, and the two decided that Arthur best be off. He grabbed his backpack, slinging it over one of his shoulders. He grabbed both the map and the schedule, folding them up and shoving them in his left pocket. Stepping towards the door, Arthur was just about to turn the handle and leave when-

"Oh, and Mr. Kirkland?"

He tensed, turning his head to where he could just barely see the man over his shoulder. "Yes?"

"I saw your file. Read your behavior reports." Arthur's body loosened, and he smirked. "I don't want to see you in my office again. Understand?"

"Understood, sir," he drawled, chuckling softly. He turned the handle and pushed, beginning his escape towards the courtyard. Though the man surely hoped the opposite, Arthur knew that the two were going to be well acquainted.

* * *

His first two classes went well, if you don't count the fact that he was late to both. The only way Arthur hadn't started the first day off with an after-school detention was explaining that he was new and simply didn't know his way around and hoping that the teachers had a shred of pity. Thankfully, they did.

He rushed into his next class, not even bothering to look at the subject or the teacher's name. Scanning the rows and rows of desks, he slid into an empty one in the back of the classroom. He preferred it this way, as it had many pros and few cons. As soon as he sat down, turning to sling his backpack over the back of his chair, the teacher walked in, shutting the door behind him.

Looking around, eyes focusing on equations and signs reading "cheating is not learning," and "STEM is the future!", he realized with a groan that he was in maths, of all things. His least favorite subject, and also, with no coincidence whatsoever, his worst performing subject.

The numbers, all mixed together, being told that they were supposed to mean something. But the thing was, those numbers stopped meaning something around year eleven and became what they were- numbers. Numbers mixed with letters and symbols that he knew the meanings of in simple, basic equations, but were lost as they got harder. More complex. Maths was a giant, layered, leveled puzzle. One that, for the life of him, he could not even begin to solve.

The teacher clapped his hands together. "I hope you all like the seats you picked out this morning. You'll have them for the rest of the year." His smile turned smug upon hearing the groans of several students, including the one sitting to Arthur's right.

Turning, he grabbed a stack of papers, flinging them onto the desk of some unfortunate soul on the front row. "What she's passing out is your syllabus. Keep it or throw it away once you leave my room, I don't care."

He began his introduction, his name, likes, and dislikes, though Arthur was too bored to care. He stared off into space, supporting his head with his hand. As he played with his pencil, he was grateful for making the quick decision to snag a seat in the back. It seemed as if some teachers were specifically trained for spotting students who were "speaking with the fairies", as his mother put it from time to time. If Arthur had sat in the front, he surely would've been called out by now.

He jumped out of his thoughts, hitting his elbow against the desk. His pencil, having been swung between his index and middle fingers, lost control, flinging out of his grip, circling around and around, only to land unceremoniously on the floor under the desk next to him. Arthur cursed, quietly enough that no one would hear him, and rubbed his slightly pained elbow with a wince.

Arthur glanced towards the kid to his right. He seemed to be focused, even though the teacher was only going over the syllabus.

Maybe he had another pencil? Arthur could just cut his losses and abandon the one he had dropped. Pencils weren't too expensive, depending on what you bought, and Arthur had the cheaper mechanical ones. He turned around in his seat, unzipping his backpack as quietly and discreetly as he could manage. He did not need an argument with a teacher on the first day. Arthur pushed through his supplies, wishing his mother hadn't gone so overboard and forced him to pack every single thing. With a tiny, whispered, "yes!", Arthur pulled out a package of pencils, only to immediately frown.

The packaging of the pencils was common. Plastic to display the product and a thin layer of cardboard to keep it all in. The only problem was that the plastic reached to the corners, curving over to the back. It would make a racket to try to open it in class, with it being as quiet as it was, and cause more embarrassment than he wished for the day. Arthur sighed, shoulders deflating. He was going to have to ask his neighbor to retrieve his pencil.

He bit his lip, wishing his piercing was still there. It had become a habit of his over many months to bite it and mess with it using his tongue when he became nervous. Its loss he had been dealing with for the past two weeks, albeit with anger and frustration, vowing to avenge it along with his other piercings. the only evidence that there was anything there was a tiny hole that looked like a beauty mark or a freckle from afar. Or, so he was told.

Arthur needed to figure out how to get the boy's attention. Throwing something was too risky. He didn't know yet if he had the type of teacher with eyes of a hawk. A note was out of the question, considering his current issue. He sighed, running his fingers through his hair. Arthur's only hope was to talk to him. And if the two got caught… his mind worked quickly with years of misbehaving. He could and would think of something.

Shuffling his foot into the aisle, Arthur tapped against the boy's shoe. It moved away, next to the other one, much to his frustration. He hung his head down, sighing and rubbing his forehead. Arthur was going to have to do this the hard way.

Arthur lifted his head up, spotting the teacher writing on the board. He hoped he was writing something long, as this would most likely take a while. Depending on the intelligence- or lack of- of the kid he was about to talk to.

Leaning to the side, his voice was sharp and quick. "Hey. Hey, you." The boy next to him stiffened, turning his head to face Arthur and-

Arthur's jaw almost dropped, but he settled for raising both his eyebrows instead. Hair that looked like melted, smooth caramel. Eyes bright behind square-framed, metal glasses. Tanned, slightly freckled face and arms. A thin layer of muscle bulking up his sleeves and torso. He had been sitting next to this for ten minutes, maybe even longer than that. And he had yet to notice it.

The two stared at each other, the cogs in Arthur's mind going haywire for a plan he could maybe- just maybe- use in the future.

He licked his lips, clearing his throat. "Could you do me a favor?" His voice was soft, clear, as it often was when he whispered. Arthur nodded to his pencil, the blond's gaze following. "Get that for me?"

The blond blinked, once-twice-three times, before- "Woah… are y'Australian?"

It was Arthur's turn to blink, his mouth gaping a tiny bit. "E-excuse me?" He was a little louder than he should've been and checked around to see if anyone was staring. He found no one.

"Y'know… Australian! Did ya have a kangaroo back home?" He gasped, his eyes growing wider and brighter with child-like excitement behind his glasses. "Did y'all bring the kangaroo here?"

His mind drew to a stop, Arthur's plan quickly going down the drain. There was no way a man could be that stupid. There had to be an explanation for it. Perhaps his mother dropped him on his head as an infant. But even then, there was still no way for it to be even a fraction of a bit possible. To mistaken him, English born and bred, as an Australian, of all things.

He stuttered, trying to find something to say. He said the first thing that popped into his mind and said it a bit harsher than he meant to. "I'm sorry, are you thick?"

The blond's smile dropped, forming a frown as his brow lowered. He hung his head down, moving his hands to squish and squeeze the chub of his stomach. "I don't think so. I've been workin' out, ya know, so I'm skinnier than I was when I was a freshman."

Arthur slapped his face, breathing out through his nose. Okay, maybe calling him thick was not the best way to go. In his two weeks of being here, Arthur had figured out that some Americans weren't the most perceptive things- though the same could be said anywhere he went- and he probably should've expected this. He might as well have called the poor lad a fatass.

He turned his attention his back to the blond, who was still rambling about his weight. "An-and my mama said that my big thighs are just, like, y'know, a family thing, and th-that I've had 'em since I was really little so I don't need ta worry. It's not like there's anythin' wrong with big thighs, y'know. Personally, I like 'em and-"

Arthur decided to put a stop to it before it got out of hand and he started talking about his workout routine. "J-just get me the damn pencil!" He pointed to it, right next to the blond's foot. "Under the- under your desk." His whispers were getting harsher and louder and he knew that they were getting some stares. Arthur would have to wrap this up quick before he started yelling.

The blond stopped, inwardly pursing his lips. He leaned to the side and down, Arthur moving away to give him some space. He lifted his head, looking back at Arthur.

"Please?" Arthur couldn't have said it nicer.

The blond leaned back, slightly ducking his head under the desk. He grabbed the pencil, then, raising back to his original position, laid the pencil on Arthur's desk and returned his attention back to the teacher.

"Finally," Arthur murmured. He picked up the pencil, using his thumb to insert it between his pointer and index fingers. He began swinging it, just as he had done to get him in the fiasco. Arthur spared glances to his right for the rest of the period, but the blond wouldn't look at him. Either ignoring him or being too stupid to notice. Both seemed plausible.

* * *

He checked his schedule, which was now wrinkled from being folded and stuffed and unfolded and stuffed again. Instead of seeing yet another class number, the word "Lunch" was printed in tiny, bolded letters. Arthur smacked the paper against his thigh, tilting his head back and groaning.

Shoving the schedule back in his pocket, Arthur began his search for the map, which he could've sworn he had put in his backpack. Reaching back, he slapped his back pocket, letting out a breath of relief when feeling a large, crumpled ball.

Arthur pulled it out, stepping to the side. He smacked the map against the wall, smoothing it out on the concrete. He leaned forward, his nose just inches away from the paper. The cafeteria was on the other side of the building and since he knew of nowhere else to go, he started walking.

He turned corners into corridors, even walking down a flight of stairs once. Arthur had his nose buried in the map the entire time, to the point where when someone was walking next to him, he didn't notice until he heard a bright, cheery, "Hey!"

Arthur jumped, head jerking towards a boy to his left. His hair was a honey color and freckles surrounded the dark, ruddy brown of his eyes.

"Hello, yourself." Arthur had no idea where he came from, but he hoped that he would leave soon. He started walking again, thinking the other would take a hint.

"I saw you talking to Alfred in math. Hilarious, I must tell you." He giggled while Arthur narrowed his eyes. He had not seen the boy in class. Granted, it's not like he studied every single person he was in the same room with, but he did look around quite a bit. Which brought him back to not even two minutes prior. Arthur grazed his teeth over his bottom lip. If he had managed to sneak behind him without Arthur noticing, then what could others do? He needed to be more careful. More cautious.

He stopped, pondering what the boy said. "Alfred… so that's the lad's name?"

"Yup. It's a wonder how you haven't learned it already, even if it's your first day. He is the most popular kid in the school, after all. Or at least, one of the most popular."

Arthur dismissed him knowing it was his first day as he hadn't seen his face previous years. It made his shoulder blades have a peculiar, tense feeling when thinking that it may have been something different. "So his name's Alfred-" he turned to the other, his brushing against his cheeks "- and what may I call you?"

The other grinned. "Vladimir Popescu. You can just call me Vlad, though. That's what Lukas and the others call me. I like black magic. You?"

"I'm Arthur Kirkland and I like to read." He didn't find it necessary to include what, exactly, he liked to read.

Vlad blinked, cocking his head to the side. Arthur thought he looked like a confused cat.

He must've decided something, as he shrugged and started walking. "C'mon, I'll take you to the cafeteria. You can sit with Lukas and me."

Contrary to what he thought, Arthur was not far from the cafeteria at all. It only took a couple of turns and Vlad was pushing open the doors with a bang, noise flooding out in waves. They walked in between rows of tables, dodging the occasional airborne food item.

They stepped towards a table in the corner, a pale boy sitting against the wall, reading and munching on crisps. When Vlad slid onto a stool, inspecting the floor before dropping his backpack, Arthur following his lead, he looked up. "Lukas! This is Arthur. You shoulda seen him in math. Called Alfred F. Jones stupid, only for Alfred to think he called him fat!" Vlad laughed, Lukas joining in with an amused huff and a small smile. Arthur felt his cheeks flare up, feeling a bit smug for his apparent achievement.

Lukas turned to Arthur, the smile staying consistent. "It's… nice to meet you." His voice was light. Full of air.

"Er- likewise." Looking around, he noticed that there was no food on the table, save for Lukas' crisps. "Why aren't you two eating?"

Lukas groaned, returning his attention back to his book. Vlad looked around as if making sure no one was eavesdropping before leaning forward. Lukas kept reading, though Arthur noticed him making a glance or two in their direction. Vlad spoke in a harsh, hushed tone. "Listen here if you want to live." Arthur sat up straight, nodding his head for him to continue. "The food here… it's poisonous-" Vlad glared at Lukas upon hearing his snort "-and will probably kill you. Or give you radioactive properties. There was this one time, in the sixth grade, where I ate this cheeseburger and-"

Lukas shut his book with a thump, setting it down on the table gently. "Vlad, he doesn't need to know about the cheeseburger. The only thing that was wrong with it was that it was frozen in the middle."

Arthur scoffed. He treated meat being undercooked as if it were no big deal? Lukas looked at him, eyebrows raising. "It's a lot more common than you might think."

Vlad nodding in agreement. "Yes. Very, very common. Which is why I must tell you, Arthur, take my advice or not, it's up to you. But either bring your lunch or don't eat anything at all."

Arthur wanted to tell the two to piss off, that they were ludicrous for even considering that the school was trying to poison them with their cooking, but… "I'll keep that in mind."

* * *

Arthur made a mental notice to himself to start to wait a while after school for the parking lot to clear out. He had not even gotten half way through the forest of cars and had almost been run over three times. One of those times, the first time, he had reached his hand out to touch the hood of the car in a small effort to stop it. Each time, however, he made sure to give a proper, one-finger send off to the drivers.

At the risk of being disowned by his parents or not, Arthur surely wasn't going to let himself forgive and forget after almost being hit by a car. Especially if it was more than once.

If he himself had a car, everything would definitely be easier. But his parents didn't trust him with one, think he would leave doing god-knows-what until the wee hours of the morning. Which, he had to admit, he probably would do. And even if they did trust him, he would have to actually get a car. A license would help, too.

"Hey! You! Fuzzybrows!"

Arthur told himself that the person yelling was not directing it towards him and was instead insulting someone else's eyebrows. He continued walking, fists and teeth clenched.

"Aw… come on! Don't ignore me when I'm talkin' to ya, Fuzzybrows!" He bit his lip, teeth grazing over that hole for what seemed like the hundredth- no- thousandth time that day. Screw it.

He stopped, feet grounded on the concrete. Turning, he got a good look at the fool. It was the golden boy from maths- Alfred, he remembered.

Relaxing his shoulders, Arthur tilted down his head, lowering his brow. "What- the- hell- do you want?" He snarled the last part, teeth bared, and it felt amazing to do so.

Alfred stepped back, eyes wide. He regained himself, putting a hand on his hip to stand akimbo. "That is two times today that you've been mean ta me, Fuzzybrows!"

Arthur wondered if a punch to the face would send the memo, "I don't care about your feelings," but decided against it. If it left a bruise and Alfred's parents were the type to take things too far… he didn't need or want more trips to Beilschmidt's office than he had to. He settled for glaring at him instead, thinking that Alfred would figure it out.

He silently cursed to himself when Alfred grinned, tilting his head to the side.

"Ya probably thought you were bein' smart, makin' me feel bad and stuff. Well, I was complainin' about it ta- no, I was tellin' him about it! Yeah, I was tellin' Kiku about it, and he said that you were actually callin' me stupid!"

Arthur rolled his eyes, raising his hand to rub his temples. He felt a headache coming along, had been all day, and Alfred's stupidity was only making it come faster. What did the fool expect? Enthusiastic clapping for his accomplishment? A pat on the back? A single tear of pride?

"So y'know what? That's actually three things you've done ta me today…"

Alfred frowned, straightening his back. A faint rosy color grew on his cheeks as he rubbed the back of his neck. He averted his eyes, only to look back up to meet Arthur's.

"Uh… what's your name, dude?"

"Why do you need to know?"

"Feels wrong, just calllin' ya Fuzzybrows."

"Arthur Kirkland, if you must know."

"Right. My name's Alfred. Alfred F. Jones. Don't leave out the 'F' when ya say it. Sounds… weird."

"Alfred Jones." It did, indeed, sound strange.

Alfred winced, drawing back a bit. "Yikes, man! I just told ya not to say it!" He stuck his tongue out, closing his eyes and shaking his head, evidently disgusted by Arthur's words. It reminded Arthur of Peter. "Anyways, three times you were mean ta me today-"

"Yes. You've said that multiple times, you don't need to say it again-"

"One! Ya called me stupid! Two! Ya made me think I was fat-"

"I didn't make you think anything, you dimwit-"

"And three, ya yelled at me a couple minutes ago." He seemed proud of himself, nodding as he listed Arthur's "crimes" against him.

The idiot must have had less intelligence than he originally perceived if he thought that Arthur actually cared about what he had to say. He had to get out quick before Arthur himself said something stupid. "Well, Alfred, great chat, but I must get going-"

"Y'know, it took me quite a while to figure out what'cha meant by 'thick'"

Arthur lifted an eyebrow. "Oh, really? That's wonderful." He hoped it wouldn't morph into storytime.

"Yeah. So I was sittin' at lunch with the guys-" His eyes narrowed and his cocked to the side a fraction at Arthur's groan "- and I was tellin' 'em about what ya said ta me.

So I was tellin' 'em, yeah, and Kiku- oh, that's my boyfriend-" Arthur didn't know why, but he stiffened at the word "-and Kiku was like, 'Alfred, where is he from?' and I was like, 'I dunno, man. Sounded Australian ta me.' and Kiku said that you were actually askin' me if I was stupid!"

Alfred crossed his arms, giving Arthur a look. The lowered brow, inwardly pursed lips, the eyes that barely hid anger. It reminded him of his mother, his father, of years being the family disappointment. It bubbled. Rising up and up and-

Arthur took a deep breath just as Alfred started. "Now, why would ya-"

"Look, Alfred. I don't give a damn about your feelings. I don't give a damn about what you tell your friends. And I certainly don't give a damn about that boyfriend of yours. Count your blessings that you have someone who cares about you enough to drag you through life, because with the size of your brain, you wouldn't be able to do it alone! Honestly, the fact that you even have a boyfriend is one of the world's greatest mysteries because you are one of the most unpleasant people I've ever met. You're annoying, you can't seem to take a hint that no one wants to be around you, and when I'm in your presence I want to gag."

He was breathing heavily, his cheeks hot. Seeing Alfred's facial expression, he knew that he nicked a soft chord of his somewhere. He let out a laugh that sounded bitter and desperate even to his own ears, clapping his hands a couple of times. Arthur loved that look. Seeing it, knowing that he was the one who caused it. He laughed again, relishing in the shake of Alfred's hand, the barely visible glaze of his eyes, his teeth holding onto his bottom lip for dear life. It was wonderful.

Arthur turned away, Alfred to his back, starting to walk in the direction of his house. It wasn't too far, about a fifteen-minute walk. Though, he knew it would be unpleasant on days with nasty weather. He supposed that being close to his new school was something else his parents had planned.

He snorted. For people who claimed to be unorganized and just went with the flow, the two seemed to have a plan for everything these days.

"Uh- um… hey- wait- Ar-" Alfred's voice cracked.

Arthur shook his head, ignoring him. Letting his backpack hang off his shoulder, he strolled out of the parking lot of his high school at a slow, lethargic pace. Leaving Alfred and not looking back.

Arthur just wished he could leave his problems the exact same way.

* * *

A/N: Ok! Thank you all for reading chapter two of Cross Life, I hope you enjoyed!

Some things to address, I would just like to say that Alfred's accent will smoothen out as the story goes on and Arthur gets used to it, as I understand that it might be annoying for some people to read. It was actually really fun for me to write it, as it's kinda like how people talk in my state.

Another thing, I sincerely apologize for missing last Sunday. I was out of town for spring break and didn't want to bring my laptop in fear that it would be damaged in my suitcase. I will be following the regular schedule, which is every Sunday, but I do apologize once again.

Some plot points were introduced in this chapter, one that will lead to a very major arc in the story, and there was also a book reference. Kudos to anyone who can guess what book it's from.

Once again, thank you for reading, I hope you all have a good morning, day, and evening


	3. Bass and Tenor

Vlad giggled, popping a piece of caramel popcorn in his mouth. Arthur took one from the bag, rolling it between his fingers, examining, before eating it. The three were sitting together in the school's courtyard, enjoying the small lunch break that they had before having to return back to class.

Well, Vlad and Lukas were enjoying themselves, with their shorts and short-sleeved t-shirts. Sweat trailed down Arthur's back and he mentally patted himself on the shoulder for remembering to put deodorant on that morning. Though they sat under one of the numerous trees in the courtyard, the shade and soft breeze did little to shake off the sweltering heat.

Stuffing a handful of popcorn in his mouth, Vlad's voice was muffled, half-chewed bits falling out onto his shirt and lap as he spoke. "An-and then I said to 'im, 'stay in your bed and go to sleep, or the boogeyman will come out, pull ya down under the bed, and we'll never see you again!' Didn't hear even a single peep that night."

Lukas chuckled, making a comment on how Vlad shouldn't talk with his mouth full. He received several chucked pieces of popcorn as a response.

Arthur snorted. "Yeah, because scarring your little brother's mind is totally going to make him stop 'misbehaving'."

Vlad threw his arms up in the air dramatically, eyes wide and mouth open with shock. "C'mon, Arthur! I'm just teasing him!"

"I agree with Arthur-" Lukas leaned back, propping his arms against the concrete for support "- you keep scaring your brother like that, he's gonna have some serious problems when he gets older. He could even turn out to be like you."

"Oh, and your brother Emil is definitely-" the two bickered back and forth, Arthur tuning them out. He pushed his sleeve up, wiping the sticky sweat off his forehead.

Arthur scanned the courtyard, eyes squinting in an attempt to not be blinded. Tables sat in a pit in the middle, trees, including the one Arthur and his companions had claimed, surrounded it and providing much needed shade. He could see the doors to the nice, air-conditioned cafeteria from where he was sitting, and wished that they had chosen to sit there instead.

Turning his head, he spotted something familiar, freezing. At a certain, crowded table, a particular caramel head sat, his head down and using his arms for a pillow, a black haired boy whispering to him and rubbing his back while the others leaned in towards him.

Arthur gripped against the concrete, an unfamiliar feeling making his hands shake. His shoulders tensed and he narrowed his eyes, staring. After about a minute though, he sighed, slumping over, reaching his arm to rub the back of his neck. He was still angry with what Alfred did the day prior. That must have been it.

He looked back towards Lukas and Vladimir- who he guessed were his friends now. The two were staring at him, eyes expectant. Arthur raised an eyebrow in return, but deflated, hanging his head down and slumping hi shoulders. "I'm... sorry. Just wondering who they were." He jerked his head towards the crowded table, mainly towards Alfred and the one whispering to him.

Vladimir nodded, Lukas turning to stare towards the group. Arthur could have sworn there was a tinge of longing in his gaze, but chose to ignore it, thinking it was probably nothing. Vlad gave Arthur a knowing expression, nodding his head towards Lukas. "It would be useful for you to know them, I guess." Vlad sat up, crossing his legs. "Those guys are part of the baseball and soccer team."

Arthur smirked. "You mean football team."

"Yes. Football team." Vladimir turned to Lukas, elbowing him in the side to get his attention. "Speaking of the football team-" he turned to Arthur, raising his brow "-American football team, I mean. Rumor has it that they're not going to have it this year.

Arthur perked up, propping his chin on his hand. "Why? Did some stupid jocks do something?" He watched the movies, the ones with American football players with sensitivity levels in the negatives, their IQs even lower. Ones that tormented the lives of those who didn't comply with their standards. Perhaps something had happened, something horrible enough to suspend the team for the year.

Vlad shrugged, grabbing another piece of popcorn. "Not enough people to play, I guess? It's not that popular."

"What do you mean, 'not popular'? Isn't it the best thing since sliced bread in America?"

Lukas turned towards him- "No, that would be Betty White." and looked back to the table.

Vlad rolled his eyes, telling Arthur to look it up. "The thing is, football is just not that popular. In fact, people here couldn't care less about football." He grabbed some popcorn, shoving it in his mouth, chewing and swallowing. "Now baseball, that's popular. Soccer, too, when it's not baseball season. I've never been to a football game before in my entire life. Been ta hundreds of baseball ones, though. I think Lukas used to play. Lukas?"

"Played in elementary school. Quit when I got hit in the face with the ball."

"And there ya have it. Those guys at that table over there, they're the best on the team. Not counting Kiku, though, he doesn't play. Alfred F. Jones, Gilbert Beilschmidt- that's Mr. Beilschmidt's eldest son, by the way- Antonio Fernández Carriedo- that sure is a mouthful- and, the one and the only, Mathias Kohler." Vlad wiggled his eyebrows when he said the last boy's name, which prompted Lukas to roll his eyes.

"Oh, shut up."

Arthur scooted up. "Wh- Mathias? Who's that?"

Vlad smiled, a small dent appearing in the middle of his chin. "Mathias is the boy that Lukas is smitten with. Watches him whenever he passes by, can't talk to him without turning into a stuttering pile of goo. Ya know, that kinda crush."

Lukas' cheeks spread with a color not unlike that of a pink rose. Turning his head into his shoulder, Arthur could barely make out his voice. "Knock it off, Vlad."

"Ok, fine. Fine. But you're going to have to face it and you know it."

Arthur tucked that small piece of information in the folds of his mind, saving it in case he would have to use it for future blackmail.

The three made small talk for the rest of the lunch break, topics like the weather and future homework coming up, Vladimir making the occasional joke at Lukas' expense. The entire time, though, Arthur's attention kept wandering towards that table.

Perhaps he had been harsh to Alfred yesterday. A bit too harsh. He knew the boy started crying when he left, could tell by his shaking and voice crack. Maybe he should go over there and apologize and-

No. Alfred deserved what he got. If he hadn't reminded Arthur of... that, then maybe he wouldn't have yelled at him. What he said was completely justified. Arthur nodded, sealing the fact.

When the courtyard started to empty out, the three exchanged their goodbyes, promising to see each other whenever they could. Arthur grabbed the now-empty bag of popcorn, throwing it away on the way to his next period, which happened to be choir.

He didn't know why anyone thought it a good idea to schedule a choir class after lunch, but he dealt with it. Mr. Vargas was a nice enough director, ignoring him after their introduction in favor of spending the period to paint vivid images of what this year contained. Arthur knew today would probably be much more eventful and that maybe he would get his part. He had no preferences, only that it wasn't next to the sopranos. Their voices often gave him pounding headaches, especially when they hit the highest of notes.

Arthur walked down the hallway, busy admiring the glittering trophies and banners yelling about past championship wins. He turned the corner, running into someone with an 'oomph'! Taking a few steps back, he adjusted the strap of his backpack. Looking up, a "my apologies" on the very tip of his tongue, he froze upon seeing him.

It was Kiku. Alfred's boyfriend. Arthur looked him up and down, at his pink t-shirt, his jeans, the few strings of black hair brushing against his chin, only to be nodded away, and he could tell that Kiku was doing the same to him.

The words on his tongue had shriveled up and died, the strong, sour feeling from lunch spiking up again. He smiled anyways, his words sweet like honey. "I'm terribly sorry-"

"Are you Arthur Kirkland?" His voice had a sharp, tense edge to it, making Arthur's smile falter. It was back up again in a moment.

"Yes, I am. And you are...?"

"Why don't we skip the pleasantries, if you don't mind."

His smile fell, replaced by the nastiest sneer he could manage. Arthur rolled back his shoulders, tensing his back. He lowered his voice so eavesdroppers would have a difficult time hearing. "What do you want, Kiku."

Kiku raised an eyebrow, cocking his head to the side, only to sigh, returning to his calm expression. "So you know me."

"What- do- you- want?" It wouldn't be long until the bell rang and he wanted to get to class on time. Kiku was keeping him from the choir room and if he didn't get out of the way soon... Arthur clenched his fists, gritting his teeth.

Kiku tugged down the hem of his t-shirt, the faces of animated characters stretching along with it. Arthur looked down. Kiku's fingers were clenching the fabric as if he were mustering the courage to talk to him. How cute.

"Alfred is my best friend. He has been since middle school. Alfred is the sweetest, kindest, most thoughtful person I know. And it will always be that way.

And you made him cry. Alfred, you made him cry. I don't know how, but you did. For three hours last night, he cried into my shoulder. For three hours.

I don't even know you, just a name and a face and what you did. But, I can't help but dislike you- no- hate you. For making Alfred... not Alfred."

Arthur sighed, lifting up his watch to check the time. Only a minute to get to class. As much as he was enjoying their heartfelt confession and ooey-gooey snuggle and cuddle time, he really needed to go. "I don't know about you, but I would like to get to my class sometime this century. Can we-" he rolled his hand in a circular motion "-wrap this up quickly?"

Kiku looked like a fish out of water with his gaping mouth. He was probably expecting Arthur to apologize in a frenzy, to have tears making tracks down his cheeks, pleading for forgiveness and saying that he didn't mean to hurt his little golden boy's feelings. Arthur snorted. He was being underestimated more and more these days.

He snapped on his sweet little smile from before, raising his voice to his normal volume, moving his arms to stand akimbo. "Is there anything else you need, Kiku? I wasn't lying, I really do need to get to class."

When he heard no answer, he shrugged, making a short humming noise to go along with it. Arthur pushed pass Kiku, strolling down the hallway. He could see the choir room from where he was.

"Please believe me when I say I don't take what I'm about to say lightly-" With a groan, Arthur stopped, contemplating whether or not he should have continued walking "- and I am rarely as livid as I am now. I hate you, Arthur Kirkland. I hate you with all my heart. I despise you because you hurt Alfred. My Alfred. And I will never forget it."

Arthur tried to make it seem like he was actually paying attention to this declaration, bopping his head side to side, left-right-left-right. Back turned to Kiku, he shrugged again, starting to walk. "How dramatic."

He didn't pay any mind to Kiku, who was stuttering after his response. He didn't pay any mind to his claims about Alfred crying into his shoulder for three hours the night before. Nor did he even care.

He pushed open the door to the choir room, cursing when he saw most of the seats were full. Mr. Vargas was standing at the front, writing something in loopy scrawl on the chalkboard. Arthur dashed to an empty back seat in the boys' section the farthest from the girls. Anything to get away from the sopranos.

When the bell rang, Mr. Vargas clapped his hands together, smiling with straight, pearl-white teeth. "Good afternoon, everyone." His smile grew wider when the class greeted back in uneven voices, Arthur for once choosing to respond with them. "We are a choir, and a choir is a family. Now, let's try this again, and this time, as a family. Good afternoon, everyone."

"Good afternoon, Mr. Vargas." Though it was monotone, the greeting was in unison, which seemed to please him.

Arthur watched as Mr. Vargas turned to the piano accompanist, a boy who looked to be the same age as Arthur with wrinkle-free clothing and styled hair. He whispered something to him, turning back towards the class.

"Yesterday, we went over last year's failures and triumphs. What we would fix and what we could keep on doing this year. Today-" Mr. Vargas stretched his arms above his head, rolling back his shoulders "-we will be 'choosing' sections."

The class groaned, Arthur not understanding why. Mr. Vargas slung his head back, groaning louder and more obnoxious than any of the students. "C'mon, guys! This is necessary. It is. We have new people come into this choir, who we'll consider family the moment they step in the door, and we have beloved ones who go and will be considered family even after they're long gone."

Arthur slumped back, rolling his eyes. He had no idea what Mr. Vargas' deal was with family, but he'll never consider these people that close to him. Ever.

But he still didn't know why his supposed family was so opposed to seats being arranged. Arthur looked around, several faces scowling, others indifferent. No evidence as to why the groans took place at all.

Mr. Vargas, still standing in front of the classroom, stood akimbo. "Who are our newbies this year?"

Arthur once again looked around. No one had their hand up. Which made him frown. Slowly, shyly, he raised his hand. Mr. Vargas' eyes snapped to him, smile getting wider and wider as his hand got higher and higher. Arthur wiggled his fingers in the air, brow raising as he did it. He had a feeling that he would be the first person subjected to the apparent torture that was picking seats in the Vargas regime of the high school choir.

Mr. Vargas cleared his throat, crossing his arms. "What's your name, young man?"

"Arthur Kirkland." With how many times he had been introducing himself lately, one would think that he had some elaborate and well thought-out way of doing it, but he didn't. No flourish, no nothing. While he had thought of doing an eloquent, "Arthur Kirkland, my dear lady or lord," he had decided against it, out of risk of being called a smart ass, which, while he would certainly take delight in being called one, he didn't really need at that moment.

Mr. Vargas nodded his head towards the piano. "Step up to the piano, son."

Arthur wanted to comment about how he wasn't his son and to never call him that again, but instead pushed himself out of his chair, walking up to the accompanist. Mr. Vargas stepped back, towards the two, looking at the keys. "Let's do... key of B."

He could hear the snickering of those behind them but chose to ignore it when the accompanist pressed the key. It was a bit too high, to the point where he would have troubles hitting the highest note. He gave a look to Mr. Vargas, who seemed to sympathize with him. "Go to the key of F, Roderich." Roderich played the key. "One octave lower. Perfect."

It really was better. Arthur allowed himself to relax a bit. Mr. Vargas turned to him, looking him up and down. "You have experience in a choir?"

Arthur wanted to cringe at the though. "Yes, sir. Seven years of church choir back in the UK." He hated every minute of it. The songs were boring, the director had a stick up her ass. Maybe four. No one in the congregation was ever happy with what they did and made sure to give their input after performances. Arthur had a sinking feeling that this would be the same thing.

"Better experience than some people here. How's sight-reading?"

"Mediocre."

"It'll be great by the end of the year. Roderich, play the starting note." Roderich pressed the key, the noise vibrating through the now silent room. "Now, I don't know what you're used to, but we do things a bit differently here. Watch." Mr. Vargas took a deep breath, Roderich playing the starting key again. "Va~ Za~ Zinga Zinga Zinga Zinga Zing." His voice was deep and rich, moving to the various pitches with ease born from decades of practice. "That one started with the starting note. The next one, you start with "re". Va~ Za~ Zinga Zinga Zinga Zinga Zing. And then you go on to "mi". Got it? Heh, I learned this at a director's camp a couple years back. Pretty good, right?"

Arthur nodded, not sure if he was doing it as a compliment to Mr. Vargas' learning or if to show he got it. He breathed in, his stomach expanding. Just as Mr. Vargas had done it, Arthur did the stupid assessment, going up the scale by one after each segment was over.

When it ended, he relaxed his shoulders, his cheeks hot. Turning to Mr. Vargas, Arthur raised his eyebrow. Mr. Vargas averted his eyes, bopping his a bit. Arthur couldn't tell if he was trying to build suspense or if Mr. Vargas actually didn't know what part to put him in, even after that minute of doing eight of those ridiculous segments. Mr. Vargas rolled his eyes back, running his fingers through his hair. "Uh... let's put you in~-" Mr. Vargas paused, lifting his hand to stroke his chin. He stood there for at least three minutes, Arthur beginning to understand why everyone hated this day. The man took forever to "choose" if he was even doing that. "-bass. Let's put you in the bass part."

Arthur sighed, shoulders slumping. Finally, they were done. He turned, walking back to his seat. Mr. Vargas called up the next victim, who Arthur felt a tinge of pity for, but that feeling disintegrated when he remembered the laughter behind his hack as he did his. And the fact that he was made to go first.

* * *

While funny at first, watching Mr. Vargas embarrass his students one by one in front of the entire class quickly grew to be dull and irritating. After the fifth guinea pig, a soprano whose voice was high enough to give Arthur a headache that felt like his brain was being viciously stabbed, he had finally had enough, discreetly sliding his current book from his backpack. Arthur had gotten multiple pages in when a very, very familiar name popped up.

"Alfred, my boy, come on up." Arthur jerked his head up, softly closing his book. He had forgotten Alfred was in the choir. Sure, he had seen him yesterday, joking and playing with some assumed friends of his, but he just dismissed it as yet another class with the fool who thought him to be Australian.

And there he was. Arthur watched Alfred as he walked from the back row to the piano. Alfred and Mr. Vargas shared toothy grins, giving each other a high-five. "Think I'm gonna go down ta bass, Mr. V?"

Mr. Vargas let out a deep, loud laugh. "We'll just have ta see." He turned to Roderich, nodding to the keyboard. "Give me a B."

Like it had what seemed like hundreds of times before, the room fell silent when Roderich pressed the key. Arthur watched as Alfred took a deep breath, fingers fidgeting. As Alfred sang the segments, his voice, while high, was pleasant and smooth. Arthur grinned.

Despite what Kiku said, Alfred looked perfectly fine. His smile was as bright, cheery, and, though he would never admit it to anyone, as contagious as it had been the day before. So either Kiku was a lying piece of rubbish, trying to get Arthur to get down on his knees and beg for forgiveness, or Alfred F. Jones could reign in his emotions quicker and more efficient than anyone he had every met. Even better than himself.

Alfred finished the last segment, high "do", looking at Mr. Vargas with hopeful eyes. Mr. Vargas rubbed the back of his neck. "Eh..." He was doing his suspense thing. Arthur groaned, leaning back.

Alfred's voice was whiny, and though Arthur had spent years of something like it dealing with Peter, he thought it cute. "C'mon, Mr. V!"

"Eh-" Alfred lifted off his heels, up-down-up-down. Mr. Vargas yelled, "Tenor!"

Alfred huffed, stopping his foot down with a "Darn it!". He then frowned, hanging his head down. Mr. Vargas gave him a couple of pats on the shoulder, which were hard enough for Arthur to hear the thumps even from where he was sitting, before nudging Alfred back to his seat.

When Alfred slumped back into the chair, kicking his feet at the carpet flooring, he turned his head in Arthur's direction. Arthur gave him a reassuring smile- which from him, was rare- but Alfred just scowled, looking away.

He tsked. Okay, maybe he had deserved a little bit of that, considering his little vent the day before, but the sooner Alfred realized that it was all his fault, he being the one who provoked Arthur, then they could put this all behind them and move along.

If Alfred was going to be like that, then fine. He would ignore him as well. Arthur turned his attention back to his book, opening it as the piano sounded. He rubbed his forehead, wincing at the high note. The rest of the period was going to be long, if he didn't kill himself first.

* * *

The bell rang, the class seemingly sighing with relief in unison. Arthur pulled his backpack from under his chair, shoving his book inside and zipping it up.

After an entire period, Mr. Vargas had only assigned less than half the class their sections, claiming that they would do the rest tomorrow. And the thing was, he probably knew what part a good number of people were, but, as Arthur had heard, Mr. Vargas enjoyed doing more than he had to, usually making the class suffer. Though, Arthur doubted the man really cared.

He stood, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. The classroom was quickly emptied, the only ones left being himself, Roderich, Mr. Vargas, and a few stragglers. Arthur was just about to clear out into the hallway, already having one foot out the door, when Mr. Vargas spoke.

"Arthur Kirkland?"

"He stopped, ducking his head back into the classroom. "Yes, sir?"

"Come here. I wanna talk to ya."

Arthur huffed, walking back towards Mr. Vargas' desk. Mr. Vargas and Alfred were at least on friendly terms, that much was evident, and he could've blabbed and blown out of proportion what had happened yesterday. Or maybe it was Kiku, the fool.

Mr. Vargas was leaning against his desk with both his hands propping him up on the veneer. "We have a Madrigal Choir here. Y'know what that is, right?"

"Madrigals are secular songs sung several centuries ago."

"Pretty much. I want you to join ours." He handed Arthur a paper, a smile widening on his face.

Arthur took the paper, looking it over with a scrutinizing eye. he raised his head up back to Mr. Vargas. "Why me?"

Mr. Vargas' cheeks darkened and he averted his eyes, raising his arm to rub the back of his neck. It seemed to be a nervous habit of his. "Uh..." he sighed, dropping his hand. "Look, my grandson- he has... troubles when dealing with other people. Rude. Pushes them away. Tries his best to humiliate them when he can." Mr. Vargas looked off, smiling about his brat of a grandson "-one time he held a fake mustache to one of Mr. Beilschmidt's sons, Ludwig, I think it was. You shoulda seen it. Hilarious.

But he's actually kind, gentle, caring to the people he cares about. And when he's in cooking club, talking about cooking, or just anything about it in general, he has something that he's interested in. He has something that he belongs to-"

"I'm not your grandson, Mr. Vargas." And he certainly didn't want to be compared to him, whoever he was.

" And I know that. But why did I ask you? Let's just say that your conduct isn't exactly a secret among the teachers. The ones that have you, at least. You need something to belong to. Now, I know you might say that you already have this choir, but you need something else. This, this could be it. Please consider it. We'd love to have ya." Mr. Vargas winked at the last part, Arthur smirking to go along.

Arthur didn't need to know about Mr. Vargas' grandson, nor did he care. He knew that the teachers were aware of his reports and he was flattered that they were talking about him. But that didn't mean that he needed or wanted to be asked to join a Madrigal Choir, of all things.

He nodded, moving his eyes corner to corner to make it seem as if he were actually considering it. "I- uh... will think about it."

Mr. Vargas' smile was blinding and he seemed elated as he put his arm on Arthur's shoulders, leading him towards the door. "I really hope you decide to do this."

Arthur nodded, walking out of the classroom. He turned back towards Mr. Vargas, giving a small smile. "I do as well, sir. have a good day, sir." He started walking down the hallway, making his way to his next class.

"Don't be who they want you to be, Arthur!"

"I'll keep that in mind, sir." He saw people staring at him, at Mr. Vargas. He glared at those people, snorting at their shocked faces, and walked faster.

Arthur would only join that stupid choir when Hell froze over.

* * *

A/N: Finally, this chapter is done! I apologize for not posting last week, I didn't get it typed until the Monday after. If I don't post one day, just assume that I'll get it the next Sunday and we'll go from there.

Thank you for reading, everyone! Have a great morning, day, and evening! See you all next Sunday!


	4. That Piece of Trash, Kiku

Walking to his house was always something he enjoyed, in the UK or not. And it wasn't even because he knew that he would be away from school until the next morning. The walk was quiet. Peaceful. It didn't have teachers yelling in his ear, calling him selfish and arrogant and that he was going to grow up to be a criminal. Didn't have his parents glaring at him with unrelenting disappointment, silently telling him that no matter what he did, what he said, Arthur was still going to be the least favorite child. Still going to be considered a failure who smokes, drinks, and punches his way out of his problems.

He hadn't had a cigarette in weeks. Sometimes, his hands shook, a voice whispering in his year, "You need me. You need me. You need me. You've always needed me. You always will need me."

But he didn't go find one. Didn't visit any of the lowlifes hanging around the nooks and crannies of the school. Didn't dare. Arthur wasn't stupid, nor were his parents. They would smell it on him. See the yellow that would stain his fingernails. And then it would be back to those looks again. Staring him down, pushing him into a corner, making him feel so small.

And they wondered why he always lashed out.

Arthur made an effort to avoid his parents because they equaled resignation. Resignation that they would never get anything better from him. He and they both knew it.

He hitched his backpack up, walking faster. He could see his house, with all its soon-to-die flowers and that ugly door that had yet to be repainted. The only thing different was the unfamiliar boy sitting alone on the front step. He held something down on his lap, his red backpack laying next to his feet.

Arthur stopped in front of him, setting his hand on his hip as he cocked it to the side. The boy looked up, seeming to be the same age as Arthur, the skin around his dark green eyes crinkling as he smiled. "Hey! Do ya live here?" The thing in his lap was a dish, the top wrapped in aluminum foil, preventing Arthur from being able to tell what it was.

"Yes, I do. Who the hell are you?"

The boy smiled as he stood, brushing off what Arthur said and balancing whatever he had between his forearm and his side. It was almost as if he were used to it. "Antonio Fernández Carriedo, lover of Lovino and tomatoes, player of football, at your service." His r's rolled as he spoke and he bowed, only for what he was holding to slip out. He stumbled forward, eyes wide and mouth gaping, managing to catch the dish just before it hit the concrete walkway.

Antonio sighed with relief, his shoulders sagging and head tipping back. He held the dish in his hands, fingers tightening around the edges. "Thank God. My mother would've killed me if I'd dropped this." He held it out to Arthur, smiling goofily. "Here, for you!"

Raising an eyebrow, Arthur took the dish from his hands, gingerly lifting the foil. There was a cake inside, powdered sugar coating the top like snow. he lowered his nose into the opening he made. Almonds. "What is this?" He sniffed it again.

"Tarta de Santiago." Antonio's eyes seemed to sparkle as he was set off. "Ground almonds, eggs, lemon zest, sweet wine, powdered sugar, and- uh... some other stuff that I can't think of right now. There's supposed to be a cross smack in the middle, but we thought it would be rude to assume your religion."

Arthur raised his head, watching as Antonio stuffed his hands into his pockets, cocking his head to the side. What Antonio- or his father or mother or whoever baked the cake- did, he wasn't expecting. Antonio had the nerve to look sheepish, averting his eyes and getting his feet against the concrete. As if it was nothing. As if it wasn't the nicest thing to happen to him since Arthur had stepped foot in this awful country. As if it were no big deal, and not the brightest highlight of the past three weeks.

Then again, it was not as if Antonio could've known that, but still. It was generous of him and his family to do such a thing for people they didn't even know. "Th-thank you. Thank you so very much. I-I know you live next door-" figuring out that he was his neighbor wasn't very hard at all, considering the fact that it was rather unlikely for a random person living three streets over to bring the new family a cake. "-but I must ask, which house do you live in?"

If Antonio lived in the house that blasted music all night, ruining his much-needed and much-appreciated sleep, cake or not, he was going to wring his neck. Or at least ask them to tone it down a notch. Acting friendly and kind was the minimum of what he should do.

Antonio's eyes widened as if the thought of sharing that important tidbit of information had not even gone near his head. He turned, pointing towards the very house that Arthur was dreading. Arthur kept in a groan, rolling his eyes to the other's turned back. "There. We live in the house there!"

Arthur squeezed his temples. The cake in his hands now seemed like more of an apology than a welcome. Perhaps it was both.

Antonio turned back around, stepping back and forth with his head tilted back, most likely trying to figure out something to say. He snapped his head down to face Arthur. "Oh! I never did get your name, did I?"

Yes, Arthur supposed that he hadn't introduced himself yet. He moved to settle the dish between the crease of his elbow and his side, much like Antonio had done minutes before. His wrist had started lightly throbbing from carrying the heavy container with one hand. "Ah... yes, I'm sorry about that. My fault and-" Antonio shook his hands, insisting that he had no reason to be sorry. "-no, I apologize. But still, my name is Arthur Kirkland."

Antonio froze, his shaky smile and waving hands falling. His eyes darkened and he took a step back, looking Arthur up and down. "You. You are Arthur Kirkland?"

Arthur raised an eyebrow, returning the favor by sweeping an eye over Antonio. He made sure to make it obvious. "That's what I just said, didn't I?"

"I expected you to be... different."

"How so?" He knew exactly what Antonio expected him to be, had been told it what seemed like thousands of times. But he always took joy in proving them wrong, at seeing their expressions when they were able to put his name to his face.

"I thought you were some punk- piercings and tattoos and crappy music and all- that made a hobby out of screaming at nice, innocent people in high school parking lots."

Arthur frowned. While what he said was true- or would be, if his parents hadn't decided that they were going to screw up his life- Arthur was surprised at how accurate Antonio was. Arthur had built up quite the reputation back home, many rumors thrown around about what he looked and acted like. Some thought he was a jock, though Arthur made sure to tell them off thoroughly after they said so, and others, a stoner. Which was surprising, as, believe it or not, Arthur actually had standards, no matter how small.

"Really? A punk?" Arthur bit his bottom lip, swiping his tongue over a piercing hole. This was growing to be amusing.

"Yeah, ya know. One of those low-lives that will only end up in prison for a drug or theft charge?" Antonio's friendly and easy-going demeanor had disappeared, replaced by one that was stiff and cold. His comment struck a chord in Arthur, gritting his teeth as a hot rage started to boil in his stomach.

"You don't say?"

"To be honest, when Alfred was telling us at lunch today about what happened, I thought that only a monster could do such a thing to someone like him,m but you..." Antonio looked Arthur up and down. "But you... I wonder what happened to make ya like that."

Arthur was furious, the famous Kirkland temper taking control, his cheeks growing red and his breath quickening. "Alfred was the one who-"

"Oh, that's B.S. and you know it. Alfred would never do anything that was mean or unkind. Besides, you were the one who yelled at him."

Arthur gripped the dishpan, the cogs of turning as an idea formed.

"Y'know, Arthur, when I first saw you walkin' towards the house, when our conversation first started, I thought you were a nice person.

"But then I heard your name. And I remember what you did yesterday to one of my best friends and how sad and hurt Alfred looked today at lunch and-"

"Would you like to know something, Antonio? I don't care. I don't care what you remember, what you saw. I don't care about Alfred. I don't care about any of it.

"So you know what? Burn in Hell. All of you. You, Alfred, Kiku, all of you. Burn- in- Hell." He turned, pushing past Antonio, whose face was growing red, and ran up the stairs to the door. Arthur pulled the aluminum foil off the dish, crumbling it into a large ball. "And take your damn cake, too." He threw the dishpan at Antonio, along with the ball of foil, the Tarta de Santiago hitting his chest with a squelch, leaving a mess of powdered sugar cake, before falling, the pan shattering into tiny, glittering pieces.

Antonio's eyes were wide, his hand extended as if he had tried to catch the pan. He stared at the crumbled cake, bits of it on his neck and chin, his mouth gaping. Arthur snorted.

Leaving Antonio to clean up the mess on the walkway, Arthur unlocked the door with his jingling keys, retreating inside. He shut the door with a thump, sinking against it. He huffed, pushing his fingers through his hair.

It seemed like all he was doing these days was running.

* * *

Mismatched silverware clinked and scraped against mismatched ceramic plates. Arthur winced each time Peter's knife screeched, no doubt making yet another scratch.

He could tell his mother was watching his every move with that calculating eye of hers, and looked at her, raising an eyebrow.

"What do you need, dearest mother?" Arthur sneered the last part, stabbing some of his food with his fork. Hopefully, something amusing would come out of this.

His mother gave him a sweet smile, setting her silver down and folding her hands on the table. She cocked her head to the side. "Nothing. Was just wondering how your day went."

Arthur snorted. He knew his mother was lying, that she didn't actually want to know how his day was. She was nosy. Had been since he was a child when she would call the mothers of his "friends" to see how their relationship "actually" was. There was a small possibility that she was doing it to Peter, but, considering the tantrum Arthur threw when he found out, it was unlikely.

"Really? You want to know how my day went? You really do?"

"Arthur." He ignored his father's warning, rolling his eyes.

Out of the corner of his vision, he could see Peter viciously stuffing food into his mouth, slurping and sucking along with it. From the way he was leaning in, Arthur could tell the little snot was preparing to butt into the conversation. If you could even call it that.

"You want to know what I did today? For the first time in- what? Years?" He could tell that she was getting angry, from the way her eyes were hardening and jaw tensing. He smirked, stabbing more of his food and shoving it in. His voice was muffled as he spoke. "Well, I went to go find some lowlife stoners- after I snagged some money from your wallet, of course- and, after I bought myself some pot, I smoke and I smoked until the final bell. How's that for the second day of school?"

Arthur smirked, his parents' eyes wide. Peter looked back and forth between the two, bracing his hands against the table. Wonder, pure child-like wonder was plastered over his face, just like it would've been if he were at the world's largest candy store. Peter's voice was breathy but loud, his head snapping to Arthur at whiplash speed.

"Arthur! You tried weed? What did it taste like? Did you get the munchies?" Peter gasped, clenching his hands into fists and shaking them with excitement. "Did you bring some home? Can we make pot brownies-"

"Peter Kirkland!" Arthur's mother looked shocked, her hand pressed flat against her chest, it heaving up and down as she breathed. She went for her drink, gulping down more than half. When she set the cup down, she gave Arthur a glare. "Never- ever- say that in front of your brother, ever, again. In fact, don't say it in front of anyone!"

She slammed her hands against the wooden table, the plates and cups rattling. She huffed, looking at Arthur as if he had grown three extra heads. "Two weeks. It has been two weeks and you have not improved even a tiny bit. Not a single dent in your behavior. In fact, you've gotten worse!"

Arthur snorted, throwing his hands up. "What did you expect? You put me through two weeks of this stupid plan of yours and you get upset when jack sh-"

"Arthur. Kirkland." His father's voice radiated anger, just like that time he broke one of his mother's treasured porcelain figurines. Arthur had cried on and off for two days after his father got done with yelling at him.

It didn't affect him anymore, however. Hadn't for a long, long time. Arthur turned to his father, giving him a nasty sneer. "What? What the hell do you want? What do you ever want? You keep saying my name; Arthur, Arthur, Arthur. Do you only know how to say my damn name?"

He was yelling then, his cheeks hot and his vision blurring. He wasn't crying though. Arthur would never give his parents- or Peter- the satisfaction of seeing him cry. Whether they were tears of melting rage or devastation or pure joy, he would never allow them to see it.

Peter decided to be smart for once in his pathetic life, his chair scraping against the hardwood flooring as he pushed it back, grabbing his plate and cup as he stood. "I-I'll be in my room if anyone needs me."

Arthur watched as Peter left from the corner of his eye, almost laughing as his fork fell off the plate, clattering to the floor, Peter stumbling to try to catch it in time.

A hand clouded Arthur's vision and he jumped as it snapped. His mother sat back in her chair, tsking. "Arthur, I don't know what happened to you to make you this way, but you're not the son I kn-"

Arthur rolled his eyes, pushing his chair out. The words sounded familiar, recent, and he remembered that it was along the lines of what Antonio said that afternoon. "I'm not dealing with this tonight. I'm not dealing with you tonight."

And he wasn't. He didn't need to. Everything that was wrong with his life at that moment was the result of his parents sticking their freckled noses where they shouldn't be near. Moving across an entire ocean to a strange country with strange people and strange customs. Taking his clothes and his piercings and his music and his posters and replacing it all with something that he hated, something that wasn't him.

Treating him- no, making him know that he was the disappointment, that he was the black sheep of the Kirkland family. That he was that son that his parents didn't really want, but were obligated to deal with and take care of. Arthur knew that even if he did turn into a "respectable" and "decent" person, his parents would disown him anyways. Just to be rid of him and the baggage that he came along with that was constantly dragging the family down.

Arthur made his way out of the dining room, into the living room and towards the stairs. he could hear his parents behind him, his father yelling for him to come back.

He started running, bumping into couches, chairs, and end tables. A lamp toppled over, bits of white, curved glass sprawling across the floor as it shattered. Arthur didn't bother to look back, to think about how it looked like the dishpan from earlier as he went up the stairs, knocking a painting to the side as he turned the corner.

He slammed his door shut, the noise echoing through his bedroom. He checked the door once-twice-three times, making sure he locked it. Arthur's fingers undid knots and twists as he ran them through his hair, stepping over to his bed.

It made a soft groan as he flopped down on it, pressing his hand against his collarbone in a small and fruitless effort to calm his breathing. When it got down to normal, Arthur stared at his ceiling, counting the individual creases and lines.

Maybe he hadn't needed to run. Run and cause a ruckus by destroying everything that got in his way. But he needed to get out. To stop hearing their voices and stop seeing their faces and stop thinking about how much of a screw up he and his life were.

He sighed. Needing some type of distraction, he rolled off his bed, moving to squat in front of his tall book shelf. It was all arranged in alphabetical order by the authors' last names, so it didn't take long for Arthur to find the one he was looking for.

Arthur pulled the book from the uniform line, blowing and brushing off invisible dust. The pages didn't lay as flat as when he first bought it, and he could see a stain from a long-eaten bag of crisps as he opened to the first page. It was his favorite, one with tiny rips in it, and he could still remember the day he saw it in an old bookshop in the middle of London.

As he moved back to his bed, he began reading the note to the introduction. The house was quiet. Tense. Arthur expected his father to come banging on his door, demanding that he unlock it immediately and face his punishment. Or at least his mother coming and giving him a lecture on how he was a horrible influence for Peter and for everyone who came ten feet near him. But he got nothing at all.

Arthur scooted closer towards the bathroom he shared with Peter, preparing for a quick escape if needed.

That night, the music next door was louder, the volume seeming to grow higher each time Arthur began to doze off. The heat didn't help, either. Even with the fan at its highest setting, sweat dripped down his back and soaked the nap of his neck. Arthur was miserable, getting perhaps only an hour of sleep.

And that, he supposed, was Karma giving him a warm welcome.

* * *

By the end of the week, guilt was gnawing at Arthur's bones, dancing around his mind.

And the thing was, he didn't even know why. Arthur had never felt even a bit sorry for anything he had done in the past few years, never really cared about the outcomes or consequences. He never felt guilty about anything, even for some of the more cruel things he's done.

But it came to him at lunch, one filled with longing stares and conversations to fill the time that he had maybe been too harsh with Alfred. He made the boy cry; for three hours if that piece of trash Kiku was to be trusted.

Arthur decided that it would be best to apologize to Alfred, if only to kill the guilt and clear his conscience. However, every time he tried to approach him, Alfred would suddenly change paths, walk faster. Back to his boyfriend for a snuggle session, no doubt.

Arthur told himself that he should let it go. That Alfred and Kiku and everyone they associated themselves with wasn't worth his time and effort. That even if he did apologize to Alfred, nothing would change except the fact that Arthur had admitted defeat.

But every time he ignored it, tried to forget about the handsome fool, the guilt would just start eating and eating all over again.

He decided to go through with it, swallow his pride and just get it over with. Arthur knew that Alfred's final class was close to his own, if only from seeing him in the hallways the past few days.

Arthur walked down the hallway, shoving to the side those who got in his way. He got multiple huffs and "Hey! What's your problem?"s, and also the occasional curse. He made sure to give those who were particularly rude his middle finger, earning angry yells as rewards.

Two hallways, including the one Arthur was in, connected to a large room, double doors leading down to the courtyard. The room was packed, filled with those trying to get to the buses or to meet up with friends.

Arthur stretched his neck, trying to find familiar blonde hair in a sea of fools.

Finally, after pushing multiple people out of his way and stalking back and forth between the hallway entrances, he spotted Alfred. Alfred seemed to see him, too, as he immediately tried to get away.

"Alfred." he started walking quickly, his stride long, Arthur having to start jogging to catch up with him. There were a few people watching, there had to be, but Arthur ignored them all.

He grabbed Alfred's wrist, holding on tighter as he tried to shake his hand away. Arthur stepped forward, backing Alfred to the wall, who was trying his best to get away.

"Arthur, let me go." Alfred's voice was uncharacteristically quiet and soft as he tried to duck around Arthur. But Arthur, never the one to let his prey get away, slammed his hand against the wall, positioning himself to block both of Alfred's sides, effectively keeping him from getting away.

"No, let me say what I need to say, Alfred. We need to talk." The two were inches away from each other, Arthur being able to feel a small part of Alfred's breath hit his face. He cringed. It smelled like stale hamburger and chips.

Arthur took a step back, knowing that he would get more work done should he give the other more room, but was still prepared should Alfred try to dart.

"I don't want to talk."

He tried to lightly push Arthur out of the way, stretching his neck to look for someone to call over when that failed. Arthur quickly turned his head to scan the room before turning back.

As busy as it was before, the room quickly emptied, save for a few stragglers and the cases of faux gold and silver trophies. No one would help him. Alfred sagged, seemingly coming to the same realization.

Arthur rolled his shoulders back, not believing that he was actually about to say this. "Look, Alfred, I just want to say that I'm sorry. About everything that happened Monday."

Alfred froze, looking at him with eyes as wide as teacup saucers. Arthur nodded, silently conveying that yes, he was actually saying sorry and it was really happening. He supposed it would be difficult to believe, considering that this was him they were talking about, but Arthur would try his hardest to sound sincere and regretful. "Sound" being the key word.

"I- On Monday, I was having a horrible day- a horrible month, really. And when you asked me if I had a kangaroo in my backyard- of all things-" Alfred's eyes narrowed and he cocked his head to the side. Arthur assumed it was just because he wasn't expecting what was happening. "-that just made it worse. And what you did in the parking lot, just being your typical self, I assume, calling me Fuzzybrows, that just made everything boil over."

Arthur ran his fingers through the front of his hair, huffing as he tried to figure out what else to say. This was going along much better than he thought it would, considering that he very rarely said sorry, much less actually meant it, and he was struggling to think of something.

"And I-"

"No, I get it."

Alfred's face was hard, cold, glaring at Arthur with pure steel in his eyes. He was a bit confused, though he would never show it, but Arthur could feel a surge of pride at his achievement. He said his apology in an excellent manner, even to the point where a fool such as Alfred F. Jones could understand.

"Oh, really? If you get it-"

"I get that you're an asshole. An insensitive bastard who takes joy in meddlin' and ruinin' the lives of others." For perhaps the first time that week, Arthur could hear every word in Alfred's sentence clearly, along with the venom coating it.

Alfred's lips pursed, his jaw tensing. Arthur could feel his hackles rising and that familiar tense feeling in his shoulders forming. He was prepared to throw some hits and kicks if he needed to, apology or not, should Alfred start to get a bit violent. It was a nice feeling, though it was one he had not felt in quite a while.

But instead of punching Alfred in the face- which he actually deserved, from the look he was giving him- he gave him a sweet, reassuring smile. "I have no idea what-"

"Don't ya give me that. I heard what ya did to Antonio on Tuesday- don't give me that look, friends tell each other about their problems. And I'm tellin' ya that since I'm sure ya wouldn't know."

That fool honestly didn't- "Pathetic. You're a pathetic piece of trash." Just like his boyfriend.

Alfred took a step back, further against the wall. Hurt flashed across his face, though it was gone before Arthur could really start to dissect and use it to his advantage. He opened his mouth, it closing and opening again as if he were a fish pulled from water. Arthur was sure he was about to be told off, started preparing his response that would have him-

"Alfred?"

Alfred's head snapped towards Kiku, Arthur taking his time. Kiku looked back and forth between the two, eyebrow raised in concern and suspicion.

Alfred pushed him back, all too quick for anything to seem casual, Arthur stumbling to regain his balance. Of course, he had to come right now, ruin all of his progress and piss him off even more. Of course, Kiku would do that.

"Kiku, don't worry, Babe, we were just-"

Kiku's attention was not on his boyfriend, but on Arthur, and his voice was edged and tense as he spoke. "What did you do?"

"Oh, listen to your snuggly teddy bear, love, we weren't doing-"

"What- the- hell- did you do?" By that point, Alfred had moved away from Arthur, taking his boyfriend's hand and grasping it tightly. Arthur tried not to glare at the sight, or at Kiku, for that matter, who was showing that same, irritatingly calm expression he had on Tuesday.

He gave him a short, honeyed smile. "I was just apologizing. And it was going well, in my opinion-" he ignored the odd look Alfred gave him "-until you ruined it. You interrupted and stopped the very thing you wanted me to do. "

Alfred rolled his eyes, throwing his hands up in the air. "Oh my-" he sighed, slumping his shoulders in defeat. "Come on, Kiku."

They walked away, hand in hand, Arthur watching as they disappeared through the door leading to the courtyard. As they walked out, Kiku turned back towards him, breaking his calm expression to give him a filthy glare. Arthur made sure to return one with even hotter fire.

Arthur was the only one left in the room as the metal door slammed shut, everything falling silent. He huffed, rolling his shoulders back and rubbing his neck.

He knew what to do.

His footsteps echoed throughout the hallway, the fabric of his slacks swishing as he walked. Arthur hoped that who he was looking for was still there, as he wanted to set his plan off as soon as possible.

When he came up to the metal door, he knocked once, twice, three times before twisting the handle and stepping inside, The chairs were crookedly lined up on the steps, one turned on its side. Pictures of past classes lined the back wall, every face smiling with genuine joy, if not with a bit of sadness, the words, "Belive in Your Greatness" displayed above in large, rainbow-colored letters. On the piano, a book of sheet music lay open, pen ink marking all over it.

He took a step forward, willing his voice to not show the anger raging within. "Mr. Vargas?"

The man in question was leaned over his desk, his nose shoved in a neon pink packet. When Arthur said his name, he looked up, smiling that white, bright smile of his when he saw him. "Arthur, Arthur! How're ya doin' today? The states treatin' ya well?"

Arthur nodded, smiling as he said that he was fine. "Uh, sir, I have a question- regarding the Madrigal choir."

Mr. Vargas perked up, his smile widening. he must've really wanted Arthur to join. "Yes, yes! What do you need?"

"Is a certain Alfred F. Jones in the choir?" He leaned forward, eyes wide, hoping it would force Mr. Vargas to spill quicker.

Mr. Vargas gave him an odd, concerned look, before snapping out of it. he nodded enthusiastically, perhaps trying to keep in character, though his smile was much smaller, his eyebrows knitted. "Yes, Alfred is in the Madrigals. Why?"

Arthur chose to ignore his question. "Great, then! When's the first practice, if the offer's still open and you don't mind me joining?"

The look was back, and Arthur was sure he knew about Alfred and Kiku's relationship and was probably wondering why he was asking. At that particular moment, however, Arthur didn't care what he thought or knew.

"Our first practice is next Wednesday. Two-thirty to five o' clock. " He smiled, grabbing the pink packet he was reading minutes before, holding it out for Arthur, who took and flipped through it. "That packet'll get ya s'more information."

Arthur nodded as Mr. Vargas spoke, slinging his backpack on the ground to shove the packet into one of its pockets. "Th-thank you very much, Mr. Vargas."

He gave Arthur a knowing smile, most likely thinking that he had connected the pieces to a puzzle. Arthur let the old man think what he wanted to think. Mr. Vargas chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "No problem. See ya next Monday."

"See you next Monday," he grumbled as he pushed open the door.

As he walked down the hallway, Arthur calculated the specifics, smiling at the finger details of his plan.

This year was going to be hectic.

* * *

I apologize, but Cross Life updates will be changed. Instead of every Sunday, like I had it planned, it will now be every other Sunday. I'm sure many saw this coming, as I've never posted on time for two consecutive weeks. It was bound to happen.

Concerning Kiku, yes, I know that some may find him to be unpleasant, (along with Arthur, for that matter) but I must say that this is intentional. Ameripan is perhaps my least favorite Hetalia ship, I consider it my NOTP, and while I have nothing against those who ship it and in fact encourage those people to enjoy what they like, I cannot stand it. I have a lot of plans for Kiku and Alfred's relationship, and Kiku is just going to have to be the way he is for those plans to work. I try to make him as close to canon as possible.

Thank you for reading, and, for those wondering, this fic is only going to get pettier and more dramatic. Have a nice morning, day, and evening, and, once again, thank you for reading Cross Life!


	5. The Lukas Initiative

Like every good and successful plan, he needed allies. Ones who would be alibis if needed and would do and say things that he might need to be done later.

Not that they would need to know the specifics- or even the basics- of the plan. Arthur would take care of that part.

They were at lunch, talking about teachers, memorable classmates, and rumored future projects. Lukas was, unfortunately, absent, Vlad telling him to get used to it because while the occurrence was not common, it wasn't uncommon, either. However, his absence gave Arthur the perfect opportunity to speak with Vlad.

"So, tell me about this Mathias Kohler that has captured the heart of our dear Lukas." A bit dramatic, but it got the job done. He took a sip of his water, swishing it around before swallowing. The three had quickly established a system, deciding to take turns supplying lunch for each other. Today just happened to be his day. Snatching a large bag of crisps from the pantry and water bottles from the refrigerator was easy enough.

Vlad dug through the bag. "Well, uh... he's on the so- football team." He and Arthur shared a grin after his close slip-up.

He clapped his hands together, suddenly serious. "If you were to take a golden retriever puppy and turn it into a human, it would look, sound, and act like Mathias. No joke. He's a pure golden boy." Arthur chuckled at the joke, Vlad joining in.

Arthur took another sip from his drink. "So why does Lukas like the 'Human Golden Retriever'?"

Vlad snorted, staring off to the side. "I don't even know. Lukas already had a crush on 'im by the time we met. I do know, though, that Lukas joined the orchestra in the fourth grade because he heard that Mathias was thinkin' about it."

Arthur laughed- surprisingly genuine- at the thought of a fourth grade Lukas lugging around a heavy instrument, just to be with his crush. At first look- or at the first meeting, even- Lukas didn't seem like the type to do something like that just to be with someone. He didn't seem like the type to have things as fragile and silly as a crush in general.

It seemed to show just how little Arthur really knew about reading people.

Arthur's laughter slowed down to a chuckle. Vlad sighed, scratching the back of his neck. He suddenly perked up, making a small, "Oh!", before smiling. He scooted towards Arthur, leaning in, cupping his hands around Arthur's ear.

"Don't tell anyone- especially Lukas- that I ever told you this." Hot air tickled the shell of his ear, and Arthur suppressed a giggle. He leaned closer, curious of what he was going to say. "There was a small rumor, though it went away pretty quick, that Mathias was only considering, but decided that he was going to join when he learned that Lukas signed up."

Arthur leaned back, eyes wide. He covered his mouth with his hand, his snickering muffled. Romance stories were always a soft spot of his, especially ones that involved secret want from both sides. This situation was certainly turning out to be entertaining, and Arthur wanted to get every detail he possibly could. "Ah... so mutual pining?"

Vlad nodded, his smile smug as he spoke. "Mutual pining. Exactly."

The two shared another laugh, reveling in their friend's fruitless attempt at a love life. They continued talking about Lukas' past failures to win the heart of Mathias, Arthur keeping note of each and every bit of information in case he needed it in the future. He had learned long ago that the secrets of his allies were much more valuable than that of his enemies. After all, as he had found, loyalty was harder to keep than hatred.

When the bell rang, Arthur was already rolling up the bag of crisps, shoving it into the front pocket of his backpack. Vlad was milling around, whistling some repetitive tune as he waited for Arthur to finish.

The two started walking towards the concrete stairs, Arthur to choir and Vlad to English. At around the third step, however, Arthur paused, grabbing Vlad's shoulder when he kept on going. Vlad made an "oomph!" as he was pulled back, but didn't say anything as he turned around, eyes filled with worry and confusion.

Arthur averted his eyes, stepping one foot down to the second step. "Uh..." He acted as if he was considering how to word his sentence, even though in reality he had already had it planned out. He made himself seem unsure, pausing a few times as he spoke in an effort to drive the point home. "Er- I'm not sure if you want to do this- and if you don't, that's... perfectly fine, but-" Arthur ran his hands up and down the straps of his backpack, adjusting his footing a tiny bit. "-would you like to work together to hook them- Lukas and Mathias, I mean- up? Maybe?"

He winced, expecting Vlad to decline, to say that it would be too much meddling in his friend's love life.

But instead of a frown, of a look of disgust at Arthur's suggestion, Vlad smiled brightly, clapping his hands together rapidly. "Yes, of course! Lukas deserves to be happy, and this'll be so much fun!"

Arthur hid his shock. He expected Vlad to have more respect for Lukas' privacy and love life, but if it was going to make his plan go that much faster, it was best.

He smiled, trying his best to match Vlad's. "That's great! Um... I was thinking that maybe we could... form a strategy at my place?"

Vlad nodded enthusiastically. "Yup, of course!"

"Wonderful! Could I meet you in the parking lot after the last bell?"

"Yeah. See you later!" Vladimir patted Arthur on the shoulder roughly before heading up the stairs. Arthur watched him go, giving a small, quick wave when he looked back.

Arthur tried to not look too smug as he made his way to choir, but it was something he just couldn't help. His plan was starting off smoother than he could've hoped for. He smirked, before beginning to run up the stairs.

* * *

Just as they had decided earlier, Vlad stood in the parking lot, lifting his heels off the ground, up and down and up and down, smiling energetically. His smile widened when he saw Arthur, raising his hand to wave. "Arthur! Are ya ready?"

"Yeah, let's go."

The normally quiet walk home was loud, filled with whatever topics Vlad had quickly thought up. They avoided the topic of Lukas and Mathias, though Arthur just assumed that they were saving it for later. Arthur supposed it was a nice change, though one he could do without, as he was giving up the only time where everything was silent and he could be alone. It was for the sake of his plan, however, so he guessed that he could be throw away one measly afternoon, even if it was done begrudgingly.

When they finally arrived at Arthur's house, he stopped to let Vlad take it all in. His eyes were wide, mouth gaped with the feeling of seeing a friend's living space for the first time. Vlad turned his head side to side, taking in the grass that badly needed a fresh trim, rows of bunches of flowers beginning to wilt, and the sad, pathetic tree that was one bad storm away from toppling over.

Arthur realized just how disgusting his front yard was and how little his family tried at making it look somewhat decent. Sure, it was like this the day they moved it, but that doesn't excuse it. He cringed, not bothering to elaborate when he saw Vlad staring at him, eyebrows raised, from the corner of his eye.

He considered turning around, telling Vlad that they could find someplace else to figure it out. Sure, it would make him look bad, but it was better than going into his house and risking seeing his family. Arthur turned around to tell Vlad that they were leaving when he saw the sky.

An angry mix of gray and black was swallowing up the cloudy blue in the distance. The wind, he noticed, was starting to pick up, softly pushing his fringe into his eyes. He pushed it out of the way, silently cursing at his horrible luck. It was going to rain. A storm, at the worst.

Arthur cleared his throat, resigning himself to his fate as he adjusted the straps to his backpack. "Right... let's go." He hoped Vlad would just shut up and follow him, as he no longer felt the need or want for any conversation.

Fortunately, Vlad didn't say a single word, waiting patiently as Arthur reached for his keys to unlock the door. As he pushed the door open, lifting his head up, he froze. Arthur cursed, choosing a word that was especially filthy and crude, contemplating on whether or not he should turn around, grab Vlad's hand, and run away as fast as he could.

There, standing behind the marble kitchen island, pouring milk into her now overflowing mug of tea, was his mother. Her eyes were wide as she took Arthur and Vlad in, especially the latter, but snapped out of it when she noticed her mug. "Oh, damn!"

She tried to whisper but instead failed spectacularly by yelling it. Arthur turned and gave Vlad what he hoped to look like a look of pure exasperation, before making his way towards the kitchen and, unfortunately, his mother.

Though it would make more sense to immediately turn right for the stairs, Arthur had to make a good impression for Vlad. He also wanted to get the crisps out of his backpack and into the pantry where they belonged, but that was beside the point.

"Good afternoon, mum." She was trying to drink down her tea, which must've been disgusting, considering the amount of milk in it. He raised an eyebrow as she slurped it down with a cringe while simultaneously wiping the counter down, but decided not to say anything about it. "Didn't expect you to be home so early."

"Mh." She stuck her pointer finger up in the universal sign to wait, drawing away from the mug with a gasp. "Apparently we get half days the last Monday of every month."

"Oh, that's nice. And convenient." He bit his lip, struggling to keep the temptation of calling her words bullshit away. She was lying, he knew it. She had probably come home early to chew him out for something that he didn't even do but had to quickly make something up when she saw Vlad walk in. "I've never heard of a place that's done that before."

"Well, apparently mine does." She set down her mug, jerking her head towards Vlad. "Who's your friend?"

Arthur opened his mouth, prepared to tell her that it was none of her business and to keep to herself when Vlad stepped forward. he smiled, hand extended, cocking his head to the side in a way that Arthur had to admit was charming. "Good afternoon, Mrs. Kirkland. Vladimir Popescu. It's a pleasure to meetcha."

She took his hand, shaking it, and immediately went to cradle her mug. She smiled, though Arthur could easily tell that it was forced. "Likewise. Arthur has told me so much about you."

Another lie. Arthur had never felt the need to inform his parents about his social life, and even if he did, they would just assume that he was making it all up. Like they always had.

"Oh, really?" Eyebrows raised, he turned to Arthur. "Thanks!"

He had to get out of here. They had to get out of here. The conversation was rapidly turning south, and any longer his mother would start asking questions that didn't need to be asked. And there was a possibility that Vlad would do the same thing. He wasn't going to stick around to find out the answers to those questions.

Slinging his backpack onto the floor and unzipping the front pocket, Arthur pulled out the bag of crisps. his mother watched him with a raised eyebrow as he walked over, pulling the door open and all but throwing the bag into the pantry. It hit a shelf, bouncing off and landing on the floor with a crunch. Vlad snickered. Without evening bothering to pick up the bag, Arthur slammed the door shut.

"Come on, Vlad." Arthur zipped his backpack up before grabbing his wrist and dragging him out of the kitchen.

Vlad dug his heels against the hardwood as he was tugged away, gripping onto the doorway. "It was nice meetin' ya, Mrs. Kirkland!"

"Nice meeting you as well, Vladimir. Are you planning on staying for dinner?" Her lips were pursed, her eyes slightly narrowed. Arthur would surely hear it after Vlad left.

Arthur prayed to any powerful deity out there that Vlad would give him the mercy of saying no. That his mother would accept the fact that he said no. That after they figure out a way to hook up Lukas and the human golden retriever, he would leave and go home and they could be done with it.

But, of course, Arthur's life never turned out the way he hoped. "Uh... sure. I'll text my mom."

"Wonderful."

Arthur tipped his head back, quietly groaning at the thought of the evening to come. He didn't say anything to Vlad. Didn't mention the pure Hell he had managed to get himself into.

He just hoped his "friendship" wouldn't be ruined at the words of his parents.

Arthur threw his backpack into the corner of his bedroom, Vlad cautiously doing the same. Both bags hit the wall with a thump, though they didn't pay any mind to it.

Their walk up to his room was eventful, to say the least. Vlad stopped at every photo, asking about family. Arthur didn't mind, as long as he didn't get too nosy. About half way there, Peter came barreling up the steps, pushing the two out of the way before locking himself in his room. Vlad made a comment about how Peter reminded him of his own brother, but Arthur doubted it. Peter was the brattiest of them all.

He motioned for Vlad to sit on his bed as he searched for a notebook. Vlad kicked off his shoes before plopping himself down on the foot of the bed. "Your mom is really nice."

Arthur froze his rummaging through his messy closet. He turned towards Vlad, giving him a surprised look before continuing his search. "Yeah, I suppose she is."

He knew that in actuality, his mother's kindness only extended to guests and family members she didn't see monthly. To him, to his father, to his brothers, she acted like an angered Kraken. The way that woman could go from evil and malicious to kind, polite, and courteous always confused Arthur. He figured it was some particular talent of hers that he didn't inherit. Though, if he were to be truthful, he wasn't unhappy about it.

With a loud, "Aha!", Arthur pulled out a spare, blank notebook. He chucked it over to Vlad, who caught it after a few stumbles, and grabbed two mechanical pencils from the top of his desk.

Arthur jumped onto his bed, next to Vlad, it groaning in protest as he was pushed up and then back down. He crisscrossed his legs, kicking off his shoes to pile on top of Vlad's, and slapped his hands on his knees.

"Ok. How are we going to start this?" He tossed a bright red mechanical pencil over to Vlad, who started vigorously pressing down on the eraser.

After a bit of lead poked out of the bottom, Vlad scribbled onto the blank header: The Lukas Bondevik Love Initiative. Arthur embarrassingly giggled at the name, covering his mouth in an attempt to block and hide it. Vlad smiled a toothy grin as he did so, passing the notebook back to Vlad.

He started tapping his pencil against the paper, tipping his head back to stare at his ceiling. "Uh..."

Arthur had already planned out some of this in his later classes, though he didn't bother telling Vlad about it. "Erm. I was thinking that maybe we could do something that involves Lukas' interests? It could make him more willing to do it, and it would also give Mathias some sort of a clue if he were to come sniffing."

Vlad nodded along, eyes wide, a smile growing wider as Arthur went along. When he reached the end of his explanation, Vlad was nodding quickly. "Yeah! That sounds like a good idea."

The idea came to him in the middle of choir, Mr. Vargas having decided that they needed a quick solfege review. The only problem was that Arthur had no idea what Lukas was interested in. Sure, they were friends, or, at least, Vlad claimed they were. But Arthur had known the two only for about a week. Lukas was a mystery to him. He barely talked about himself, and barely even talked to Arthur. He was still a potential ally, however, and one that Arthur needed, so he supposed he would let it slide.

"Tell me everything he likes." He tried to sound like he at least knew some of what he was asking, and Vlad seemed convinced, bopping his head side to side.

"Uh... orchestra, obviously." Arthur nodded in agreement. "He likes Mathias- once again, obviously."

Arthur smirked, snorting at Vlad's comment. "Some of his hobbies?"

Vlad rested his head on his palm, tapping his fingers against his cheekbones. After about a minute, his eyes widened and he perked up. "Oh, oh! Lukas is really interested in Norse mythology."

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "Really? Norse mythology?" He didn't seem to be the type.

"Yeah! It's all he reads. Haven't you seen that big giant book he lugs around every day?"

He knew the book. If Arthur had a habit of keeping books until their pages were yellow, Lukas had one of keeping them until they were nothing but scraps. The book must've been more than a thousand pages, the width longer than Arthur's entire index finger. The gold and blue paint of the cover was beginning to fade, part of the edges chipped off, and the binding looked as if it were two more reads from disintegrating.

Arthur didn't know why he still kept the thing. It looked old, ancient, and was close to falling apart. He asked Lukas one day why he didn't just break down, throw it away, and buy a new copy, but that only led to him being shunned the rest of the lunch period and half of the one the next day.

"Ok, so that's something someone could use to identify him. Maybe we could do something involving that?"

"We would need an actual plan before we could even begin to incorporate it."

Sighing, Arthur swung his pencil between his fingers, the eraser thumping against his thigh. He cupped his chin in his free hand. covering his mouth with his pointer finger. "I've no clue..."

They sat like that for a while, staring off into space to try and find something that could help their friend. The room was silent, save for the tapping of Arthur's pencil and whatever Peter was doing in his room.

After about twenty minutes, Arthur's back slouching and aching, Vlad perked up, snapping his fingers. "I've an idea."

Arthur uncrossed his legs, sore from sitting in the same position for so long. "Shoot."

Vlad leaned forward, cupping his hands over his knees. "Ok, so Norse mythology is basically Vikings, right?" he waited until Arthur nodded to continue. "So, we dress up as Vikings, fake, braided beards, horned helmets, fur coats, y'know, stuff like that, and we walk up to Mathias and sing an epic love song. Well, Lukas will. You and I will provide the chorus and afterward, Lukas will ask Mathias if he would like to go on a date with him. Mathias won't be able to say no!" Vlad waved his hands around as he spoke, most likely in an attempt to add more emphasis.

Arthur looked at him as if he were crazy, which was probably true. "That is the stupidest idea I have ever heard."

Vlad deflated, his pout making him look like a disappointed toddler. "Why?"

He threw his hands up. "For godsakes, Vlad, you've known Lukas for- what?- years? You think he'll actually go for something like that?"

The fool actually seemed to consider it. He huffed, crossing his arms together. "You're right. If anything, he'll run away before the first verse."

Arthur nodded. That definitely sounded like something Lukas would do.

At the look on Vlad's face, Arthur decided he needed to do some ego fluffing. Scooting closer to the other, Arthur patted his shoulder exactly three times. "Sorry for being so blunt. That was a really creative idea, but I just didn't think it would fit with our circumstances. For coming up with something like that, and so quickly, too... you're really talented."

Of course, he meant none of that, perhaps beside the fact that it was creative. How Vlad managed to come up with that was beyond him.

Vlad's eyes sparkled. With what, Arthur wasn't even going to try to figure out. "That's okay." Groaning, he leaned back against the wall, folding his arms behind his head to create a pillow. The loon in his eyes was gone. "What're we gonna do~?"

Arthur ignored his friend's antics in favor of brainstorming. he clicked lead into his pencil, drawing a line down the middle and writing "Not To Do" on the top of one half. Lukas was extremely shy, even more so with Mathias, so anything up front and close would be off-limits. That included song singing, flowers and a note, asking friends to hook up, walking up and flat out asking, and a nerdy love equation thing.

Deeming himself finished with that column, he went to the other half, titling it "Possibilities". He stared at that half, wishing that a twelve-page list would magically appear. If that were to happen, he and Vlad would only have the problem of picking one to go with.

What seemed like hours ticked by, spent by them staring at that paper. Occasionally, one of them would propose something, only for it to be shot down by the other, followed by a lengthy explanation why. Arthur had learned more about Lukas Bondevik in those last few hours than he had in the past week.

Eventually, they were summoned for dinner. The food was good, for Kirkland family standards, meaning his mother must've tried harder than usual this time around. Vlad ate it and accepted when he was offered seconds, so he most likely enjoyed it as well. The whole thing was terribly awkward, however, with his parents quickly turning it into an interrogation. But where Arthur would've started snapping, Vlad stayed calm, smiling his way through even the toughest questions. Peter, thankfully, had decided to keep his mouth shut for the majority of the dinner.

When they returned upstairs, they went back to staring at the blank half, which is what they were currently doing.

Arthur groaned, pushing his fingers through his hair. One thing. He- no, they- just need one tiny idea that they could branch off of. One little idea, and then they would be airborne.

He racked his brain one last time, going back to Vlad's idiotic plan from earlier when he found nothing. It really was stupid. Viking uniforms. Lukas singing a song with him and Vlad as backup-

Backup. That was it. Arthur straightened his back, his eyes wide. Every single plan that they had come up with so far- besides Vlad's, of course- had Lukas doing all or most of the work. Buying flowers. Stalking him to learn his hobbies and likes and eventually working those to his advantage. Asking the teacher for an out-of-school tutor and recommending Mathis for the job. All of it with Lukas doing everything.

So what could they do? Vlad was creative. Eccentric. So he could surely come up with something to decorate and add on to whatever they were doing. Arthur prided himself with his writing, had done so for years, and-

"Oh my god, oh my god, Vlad." Leaning against the wall, the boy had begun to doze off, or at least, until Arthur grabbed his shoulder and started shaking it back and forth.

Vlad winced, leaning forward, rubbing his eyes lethargically. "What?" His voice was quiet, small, as if he planned to go back to sleep after whatever "minor" thing Arthur was going to say. "What is it?"

"I've got an idea." He wrote down the concept on the blank half- only to fill the stupid thing up- before flipping to another page entirely. Vlad slouched over the notebook, watching as Arthur scribbled down the specifics.

Arthur paused, looking up at Vlad. "he carries around that huge book, right?" Vlad nodded. "So I'm safe to assume that it's full of stories, right?"

Another nod. "And profiles of a lot of the gods and goddesses, but yeah, mostly stories."

"And I'm guessing that Lukas knows a lot of those stories?"

"No, as soon as he reads them, he instantly forgets what he just read." Arthur raised an eyebrow at the sarcasm, not entirely expecting it from someone like him. Vlad winced. "Sorry, sorry. You kind set yourself up for that, though." Arthur nodded. He had. "But yeah, he does know a lot of 'em. Like, what goes on and what happens. I think there's this one love story he knows word for word. I dunno."

Perfect. Absolutely perfect. It was all coming together. He finished writing down the plan, Vlad adding a couple of extra details here and there. Eventually, they had a solid concept in place.

The only thing they had to do was tell Lukas the next day at lunch.

* * *

"No." Lukas chucked the notebook onto the cafeteria table, it hissing as it slid back towards Arthur. He leaned back, crossing his arms. "Absolutely not."

Vlad grabbed the notebook, glancing it over and then turning it over to face Lukas, text forward. he rotated it back and forth between Arthur and Lukas. He leaned forward to look at the paper, before sitting back and shoving it in Lukas' face. "Show some common sense. This is top-notch!"

Arthur nodded in agreement. It was a fantastic, sure-fire plan that had no holes for failure. Especially so, considering the fact that Arthur had thought up and created three-fourths of said plan.

Lukas frowned, huffing. "This 'top-notch' plan of yours is the cheesiest, most cliché thing I've ever heard."

Honestly. That ungrateful- "What in the hell are you talking about? Do you want to hook up with Mr. Golden Retriever or not?"

Vlad snorted before breaking into a full out laugh. "Mr. Golden Retriever. Genius."

He smirked, taking a bite out of his peanut-butter and jelly sandwich- courtesy of Vladimir. It was his first one, embarrassingly enough. When he told his friends that, they stared at him with disbelief. He took another bite, using his pointer finger to push a bit of escaping strawberry jelly into his mouth. As Arthur spoke, his voice was muffled. "Give it a change, Lukas. Vlad and I worked hard and spent ages working on it."

Raising an eyebrow, Lukas gave him an "Are you kidding me?" look. On anyone else, it might've looked amusing or so ridiculous that Arthur wouldn't be able to take them seriously. On Lukas, however, it just made him look cold, intimidating. Arthur tensed, forcing the hackles back. It reminded him of his father.

"Really? You two honestly think that secret admirer letters that we slip in Mathias' locker will get us anywhere? If anything, he'll take them to his table and read them to everybody so they can laugh at how stupid it was for anyone to even think of it."

Vlad crossed his arms and pouted. "How could you think so low of your future lover?"

"He won't be if we-"

Arthur cut him off, not willing to hear any more bashing of his masterful thinking. "Clichés are things that are overused, yes? Well, there's a reason they're overused. They're effective. Efficient. They work."

Lukas threw his arms in the air, mocking a look of wonder. "How could I've ever known?" His arms fell, and he was back to his original, irritating expression. "This won't be worthwhile. I know it won't. I'ven't had a single full conversation with Mathias. Ever. And we're neighbors!" Arthur lifted an eyebrow at the new bit of information while Vlad just snickered. Lukas fixed him with a glare, before deflating in defeat. "I dunno. If anything, he'll just think it's someone else and fall in love with them. Like The Little Mermaid."

He paused for a moment to imagine his nightmarish thoughts, before shaking his head with vigor. When he finished, Lukas grabbed his sandwich, slumping back as he ate.

Vlad watched him with sad eyes, leaning over the table to pat Lukas on the shoulder. From the look he gave, it didn't help. "C'mon, Luke! This plan'll be different. Arthur and I put in a foolproof way to ensure that you'll be identified."

"How so?"

Arthur nodded to Vlad, silently conveying that he would take care of this part. "Well, you see, there's this one tiny, yet major, detail that we included-"

Vlad beamed. "And that's the theme of the letters!"

He lightly smacked Vlad on the shoulder for interrupting him, before continuing. "Exactly. The theme. You like Norse mythology, everyone who knows you knows that. So, we're thinking that maybe the messages can involve some of the stories?" Lukas didn't seem confused, but Arthur still felt the need to elaborate. "I-I mean, for example, 'Mathias, you are my- insert Viking name here-, you are brave, strong, and courageous.' You know, stuff like that."

Vlad nodded, having quit rubbing the area where Arthur slapped him. "Yeah! And, the thing is, if Mathias was really into ya, which I'm positive he is- c'mon, Lukas, it's you- then he'll have some clue of who his secret admirer is!"

Lukas huffed, grabbing his book and flipping through multiple pages at a time. Lukas stopped at one particular page, rubbing his fingers against the edge. Arthur and Vlad were silent as they watch him read, though he didn't seem to notice. He huffed again. "I'll start looking for some stories we can use."

Vlad sighed in relief, Arthur rubbing the back of his neck. If he were to be honest, Arthur expected Lukas to deny their plan altogether, leaving them to pick up the pieces back at square one. It certainly was something that he himself would've done, though he supposed that Lukas was kinder than that.

The three sat in silence for the rest of the break, someone occasionally muttering about a random, trivial problem going on in their life. When it was his turn, Arthur never mentioned anything about his home life, instead choosing to complain about the waves of homework that were starting up. His friends were sympathetic.

Friends. It felt weird for Arthur to think of them that way, to notice how quickly he was beginning to open up to them. It was certainly much faster than he had in the past. Eventually, if this kept up, he would be easily telling the two his deepest, darkest secrets and insecurities. Laying it all out for them on a polished silver platter, just so they could pick and choose which ones to mock and judge.

The very thought of it made him livid.

When the bell rang, Lukas tucked his bookmark into his current page before snapping his book shut. He grabbed his backpack, slinging it over a shoulder and walking away. He didn't even bother to say goodbye.

Arthur began packing up, mentally preparing himself for the horrors he'll have to face in choir. Today, they were supposed to be receiving their first music pieces for the concert in December, but, knowing Mr. Vargas and his teaching style, that could very well change. The Madrigal choir was due to start tomorrow. Arthur pursed his lips, wondering what exactly he had gotten himself into.

With a quick, "See you later," Arthur began his walk to the stairs leading to the second floor. A hand wrapped around his wrist, pulling him back.

Vlad let go, moving his hand to rub his forearm. "I- uh... just wanted to say-" Arthur raised an eyebrow as he looked away. "-thank you!"

Arthur's eyes widened and he sucked in his lips. He was certainly not expecting this. Not at all. he opened his mouth to say something, to say anything, but Vlad cut him off.

"No- don't say anythin'. Just lemme talk." Vlad twiddled his thumbs, darting his eyes around as if he were trying to figure out what to say. "It's only the second day of the second week of school. Which means that Lukas and I've known you for not even two weeks."

Arthur stayed still, not bothering to nod in confirmation. It wasn't needed.

"But, the thing is that even if we haven't known each other for that long, I'm grateful of all you've done to help. Lukas is, too, though he's just too shy to say it."

The surprise on his face must've been obvious, as Vlad snorted. "C'mon, Arthur. Give yourself s'more credit. You offered to help set up Lukas with the guy he's been smitten over for years- and you've only known about if for a few days! A lot of people wouldn't even think about doing that."

Vlad put his hand on Arthur's shoulder, giving it a tight squeeze. He smiled, and kept the smile even when Arthur didn't smile back. "I gotta go, but, once again, thank you so much for everything. All of it. You're seriously awesome." He pushed Arthur back, laughing as he did so. Arthur let out a chuckle. "Have a good day, Art. See ya tomorrow when we officially start The Lukas Initiative."

And with that, Vlad briskly walked away, no doubt going to his next period. Arthur smiled as he watched him go, a real, genuine smile. He didn't have to fake even a fraction of it.

He didn't upset himself to develop relationships this fast. This easy. In actuality, Arthur expected himself to be alone the first three months at least. It was an odd and tense feeling to see his previous thoughts turn out wrong. It was kind of pleasant, though he knew it wouldn't last.

Yes, after they learned of his plan, saw the aftermath, gone would be any friendly relationships Vlad and Lukas had with Arthur. They would never speak to him again. Sneer in disgust whenever he walked past or near. It was a necessary sacrifice, he told himself. It would all work out in the end, and it was not as if he would see them after high school, anyways.

But he couldn't help but feel a little guilty for what he was dragging them into. For what was to come and what was to happen.

* * *

I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter, even if it feels a bit filler-ish. I've been thinking about doing a separate fic that goes more into Lukas and Mathias' point of view, but if I do, it will certainly be after I finish Cross Life. I can barely hit the deadline for this fic, much less two.

The only thing I'm worried about in Cross Life is one: the pacing, and two: the depiction of characters. Should I pick it up, and start putting more days between chapters, and should I look at how I'm writing the characters? If anyone would like to put in their opinion, it would be much appreciated. :)

Thank you for reading chapter five of Cross Life, and I hope you all have a wonderful morning, day, and evening! (Did you notice that I'm putting in chapter titles now?)


	6. Round and Round

Noise flooded through the hallway as the bell rang, Arthur's teacher yelling something about plans for the next day. Arthur ignored him, pushing through the waves of students crowding the doorway.

Today was the kickoff of The Lukas Initiative, as Vlad had officially named it, where they were supposed to deliver their first letter to Mathias, Or, rather, Lukas was supposed to.

At lunch, Lukas handed them a list of stories, each one accompanied by a short summary. The three went over the list, Lukas going into detail for some of his favorites. They eventually chose one, a saga about a man named Frithiof, who was sent into exile for defending the one he loved from her brothers. It was a sweet story, or so Lukas had said, and they decided that they were going to use it for their first letter. It was easy enough to change some things to fit their current situation.

He walked as briskly as he could without running, shoving his through the Sea of Fools to their meeting spot. While it was close enough to Mathias' locker that they would have a decent amount of time, it was quite a ways from Arthur's final class, which made it an inconvenience.

Lukas and Vlad were standing in front of a trophy case when he arrived, Vlad impatiently tapping his foot against the white tile. He gave them a sheepish smile, muttering an apology for his lateness.

"No problem. We needta hurry." Vlad motioned for them to follow, picking up the pace when they actually did.

Mathias' locker was located down a hallway and to the left, unfortunately in the crowded main hallway. Though he now knew it didn't make a lick of sense, Arthur at first thought the lockers lining the halls were for decoration. There was no wonder he thought that way his first few days, however. The school was rather large, and, as he had assumed, it would take too long to constantly go to lockers. As a result, everyone carried their backpacks with them.

And though he could say it to himself, Arthur refused to admit to others that he was wrong. Especially Vlad and Lukas.

As Vlad had explained, lockers were used for extra things, such as winter coats and sports gear. Some students chose to store emergency supplies in theirs, one of those students being Lukas. Apparently, he hoarded his college-ruled paper as a firedrake did with its jewels.

They stopped at a corner, leaning against each other in an attempt to see Mathias' locker. Whichever one it was, it was unsurprisingly like all the others, blue, with a gray number label. But to Lukas, from his wide eyes and gaped mouth, it was the beginning to an end, one that he would have to face, blind to its outcome. Arthur snorted. How dramatic.

"Ok." Vlad clapped his hands together, looking back and forth between Arthur and Lukas. We've got two minutes at the most until Mathias comes to get his stuff for soccer. We could, of course, wait until he leaves, but then Mathias wouldn't-"

Arthur cut him off. As much as he didn't want to, he had to say it. "We can't wait until he leaves. I've got Madrigal practice in a little more than five minutes."

He could see Lukas' face fall from the corner of his eye. Earlier, he had offered to leave the two if an extension was needed, only for Vlad to shake his head. "The three of us do it together or we don't do it at all," he claimed.

It was when Lukas nodded that Arthur resigned himself to it. It wasn't that he didn't want the plan to go through, he was the one who wrote it! Arthur just had no idea what he was supposed to do when it came to the execution. Sure, he knew he was to write the letters, but when it came to the actual delivery of said letters? Arthur had no part. No role.

He checked his watch. The simple metal band gleamed under the harsh lights. His mother had bought it for him as a "present", but it knew better. It was most likely yet another test to see if he would actually wear it, to check his "morals".

"If we're going to do it today, we need to do it now."

He and Vlad turned to Lukas, who was holding the dusty rose envelope. His grip tightened around it, face scrunched up with fear and worry.

Vlad put his hand on Lukas' shoulder, giving him a supportive grin. "You can do it, Luke! Don'tcha worry, when ya get back, Arthur and I'll be here for emotional support." He patted his shoulder, once- twice- three times before letting go, shoving him along.

Lukas averted his eyes, biting his bottom lip. He raised the envelope, reading the name carefully and painstakingly written in cursive.

Arthur leaned against the wall, softly tapping his foot. He didn't have time for second guessing, for Lukas to suddenly start regretting everything. Arthur didn't understand why he didn't just swallow it all and get on with it. It was something he surely would've done.

He finally snapped when Lukas gave him a look that screamed for help, wide eyes, sucked in lips, and everything else that came with it. Arthur rolled his eyes, tsking as he snatched the letter from Lukas' hand. It was smooth as he rubbed his thumb back and forth, over the rose engraved in the flap, the paper swooshing as he did so. Arthur pursed his lips. "What's his locker number?"

Vlad scratched the back of his neck. "Uh... pretty sure it's 1019."

"Thanks." He hoped that Vlad was right. If he wasn't, they would have a disaster on their hands.

He turned the corner, stalking over to Mathias' locker. And just as quickly as it began, with a small push into the slats, the deed was done.

As Arthur walked back, he could see a familiar figure from the corner of his eye. He turned to Alfred, giving him a small smile and wave before turning his attention to Vlad and Lukas. He stared at Lukas, who was blushing and hiding his mouth behind his hand. Arthur's voice, along with his expression, was deadpan as he spoke. "It's done."

The blush darkened. "Thank you."

"I will not do this again on Friday."

"I know."

Vlad smiled, giving a soft chuckle. "So~. That was a good start. We'll do better on Friday."

Arthur nodded. Lukas would do better on Friday, even if he had to force him to do it.

* * *

The choir room buzzed with activity and excitement. Mr. Vargas pointed around the room, ordering stacks of paper onto wooden tables and gaggles of students against concrete walls. It was loud, loud enough to give Arthur a throbbing headache.

"Quiet." Mr. Vargas' voice boomed through the classroom, and, amazingly enough, it quickly fell silent. Everyone except for a select few seemed to perk up. Arthur scoffed at the sight of these fools with their eyes so wide and attentive.

With everyone in the room still and listening, Arthur just barely doing the latter, Mr. Vargas looked down at his clipboard, tapping his glittering pen against the bottom. "Please keep quiet as I start putting everyone in alphabetical order."

He started at the very first row, then on. After saying each name, he waited until they came up to call the next. It was a slow process, laid back, but Arthur supposed that that was just Mr. Vargas' style.

He tapped his fingers against the wall as he waited for his name to be called. According to Mr. Vargas, it would be easier to pass out necessary files if they all sat this way. Arthur knew it was a lie, because, if it was actually true, he would put his regular classes in the same order. They would have to rearrange into parts when starting the music, anyways. This whole thing was ridiculous. Unnecessary.

"Alfred F. Jones, ma boy, you're up, and Arthur Kirkland next to Alfred."

Arthur rolled his eyes, groaning. Of course, he had to sit next to Alfred. Of course, the universe would be this cruel. Pushing himself away from his comfortable spot, he strolled to his newly assigned seat, plopping down with a huff.

Alfred slumped down next to him, giving Arthur a nasty glare. He replied with a haughty smirk.

Mr. Vargas watched the exchange with a raised eyebrow, along with a few other students, before clearing his throat. "Ok... next person!"

Pulling his backpack up from the side, Arthur slid it under his chair. he leaned against Alfred as he did so, who tried his best to shy away. Arthur clicked his tongue. Interesting. He made a quick, forced apology before sitting back in his chair.

From the corner of his eye, he could see Alfred staring at him, but ignored him, instead choosing to examine a particularly painful hangnail. Whatever he wanted, it wasn't important and would just waste his time. And though he wasn't doing anything significant or important at the moment, he would still count a potential conversation a sacrifice of precious moments.

Mr. Vargas chucked the clipboard and pen on top of the piano, clapping his hands as he paced back and forth at the front of the room. he stopped, giving everyone a lazy, lethargic grin. "Welcome to this year's Madrigal Choir, everyone." When the whoops, hollers, and applause finally faded, he continued. "With just a single sweep around the room, I see some old faces, new faces, and, of course, some newly graduated wenches." Multiple chuckles and glances towards a few people in the room. "So let's give another cheer for a good, productive year!"

The class started another round of noise, Arthur giving a few soft claps, if only to go along. He winced as Alfred gave an earsplitting yell. He gave Alfred a disgusted look as the noise died down, but was irked when he was ignored.

When Alfred slumped back down in his chair, Arthur couldn't help it, his thoughts about wasted time be damned. "Thank you for viciously slaughtering my ear. It was much appreciated."

He didn't say anything in return, which only succeeded in making Arthur even more annoyed.

It wasn't until Mr. Vargas started on this year's goals and plans that Alfred chose to hop down from his stallion and speak to him, He leaned towards Arthur, whispering, his voice firm with accusation. "What's in it?"

Arthur leaned back, crossing his arms and legs. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

A suspicious look. "I saw ya. Y'know I saw ya slippin' that envelope into Mathias' locker. What was in it?"

Arthur tsked, turning his attention back to Mr. Vargas. If he were to tell Alfred about Lukas, about his not-so-subtle crush, he didn't know what the idiot would do with that information. What would happen to Lukas. What this Mathias would do if- no, when- he found out.

Only paying half attention to what he was saying, Arthur made his voice sound firm, final. "It's none of your business."

He ignored Alfred's protests, tuning in fully on Mr. Vargas. Even with his position up front and Arthur's row towards the back, his voice was loud. He walked towards a table, picking up one of the stacks of paper. "Ok." He licked his thumb, tabbing through the papers multiple at a time. "What I'm passing out to everyone is a packet that'll give y'all some more information about the choir. Costs, costumes, commitments, etc."

As he went from row to row, passing out his packets, Alfred took the opportunity to grate on Arthur's nerves yet again. "Whaddaya mean, 'it's not my business'?"

Huffing, Arthur turned to Alfred. Why did he have to be so persistent? Couldn't he just accept the fact that Arthur wasn't going to give him what he wanted? It was amusing at first, yes, but now, it was just plain annoying. "None of your business. Meaning, you have no role in this. None whatsoever. You don't need to know anything because it does not affect you."

"But this-"

"Ok, boys!" Mr. Vargas stopped in front of them, grabbing two packets from the very top of his stack, which was now in disarray. "One for Alfred, and, one for Arthur." Just as Arthur lifted his hand to take the packet, Mr. Vargas pulled it away. Alfred snickered. "Oh! I've already given you one."

Arthur narrowed his eyes. When had he- oh, that was right. Last Friday. He smiled, nodding. "Yes, you have."

Mr. Vargas bopped his head side to side, beginning to walk away, before stopping once more. He chucked the packet towards Arthur, who caught it with a quick burst of reflex, speaking as he walked away. "I've got extras, anyways."

"Thank you, sir." He gave him a sweet smile, running his finger back and forth over the staple in the corner of the first page. He let the smile fall as soon as Mr. Vargas was several chairs down.

Having watched the entire exchange, Alfred snorted, crossing his arms and leaning back. "So you're one of those types," he murmured.

He figured that Alfred didn't want him to hear that, considering how quiet his words were, but Arthur decided to comment anyway. "I'm one of those types?"

He nodded. "Yeah." His voice was stiff, tense, looking as if he would rather be anywhere else than talking to Arthur. Arthur rolled his eyes. The fool was the one who started the conversation, and now he was getting defensive.

Putting his arm on the back of the chair, Arthur adjusted his position, sitting on his right leg and turning to Alfred. Arthur made a fist and rested his chin on it. "And tell me, what type is that?"

Alfred flipped the page in his packet, just as Mr. Vargas had said to do, Arthur doing the same. Slower, but, nevertheless the same. Alfred didn't say anything, just reading the page along with the rest of the group, and Arthur began to think he wouldn't talk at all.

Huffing, Alfred looked at Arthur, raising an eyebrow. "Ya honestly don't know?"

With a honeyed smile, Arthur waved his hand. "Enlighten me."

Alfred tsked. "You're one of those types that're friendly to people who'll give ya somethin' ya want, but the second- the very second- they stop being useful, they're suddenly a pile of dog shit you stepped in."

Arthur scoffed. As much as the people in this school insisted the opposite, Alfred was an asshole. An arrogant, infuriating asshole.

He had to give him props for being so bold, however. Swiping the invisible dirt off his packet, Arthur snorted. "You've no idea, Golden Boy."

Alfred stiffened, sending Arthur a worried look. Arthur wasn't going to comment on it, considering that there could've been some private baggage lugged on with it, even if it did make him a tad bit curious.

"Now, turn the page." Arthur followed Mr. Vargas' instructions, scanning through the newly uncovered paper.

It covered costs, including costumes, club fees, and sheet music. He winced at the grand total, which was a low triple digit number, but high enough that it would take a few days to convince his parents. It would be a good idea to start this evening, even if he cringed at the thought of bringing that conversation up.

At the grumbling and gasps of the room, Mr. Vargas waved the paper around. "Calm down, calm down. I know uniforms cost a lot, but if you can use yours from last year instead of buying a new one, that's great. In fact, I recommend it. For those of you who can't afford to get your own customized costume, I have some used ones from over the years." Mr. Vargas gave everyone a reassuring smile before looking back down at the packet. "Now, turn your attention to 'club fees'."

Arthur drummed his fingers on his thigh, over and over and over again. He understood that this was necessary and that they were probably going to do the same- or at least something similar- thing the next week, but he couldn't help but want to start already. To get all of this over with and behind him.

Arthur groaned, hanging his head and rolling his eyes when Alfred started to speak again. "So tell me, what're ya tryin' to do with Mathias?"

It was nothing he needed to know about. Arthur was tempted to tell him yet again that it was none of his business, that he should just accept that fact that he would never know. But- and damn his insatiable appetite for knowledge and gossip- he was curious.

Smacking his packet onto his lap, Arthur turned to Alfred, eyes narrowed and head cocked to the side. "Why do you even want to know?"

He already knew the answer. That Mathias was his friend, and he worried about him and would try his best to protect him. Even if it meant interrogating and dealing with scum like Arthur.

The look of disgust on Alfred's face was familiar, one that various people have been sending his way for years. He sneered, and Arthur thought it looked unnatural on his face. "Why do I even wanna know? I wanna know 'cause I don't want one of my best friends to be caught in whatever your rotten fingers have been conjurin' up. It would be just like ya to make him fall in love with ya- or at least with a friend of yours that doesn't look like complete horse shit- and then rip his heart out once he's good n' vulnerable. Hell, I bet you would laugh."

Despite it being the purpose of the words, Arthur felt no pain, no sting from them. He took a deep breath, letting it all soak in. Alfred's tone, the hatred on his face as he spoke, he went over it all. He clenched his fist, his fingernails digging into the meat of his palm. It was odd that he was as calm as he was, considering his normal conflict resolution was yelling, accented with a few punches to the face.

When Arthur spoke, he lowered his voice to a whisper. "Is that what you think of me?" He gritted his teeth, tightening his fists.

Alfred snorted. "Do I think of ya as someone who'll gladly ruin someone's life for your own twisted amusement? For sure."

His hands were shaking, his fingers denting crescent moon shapes into his palms. Arthur reached out and grabbed what little fabric Alfred's t-shirt collar had, pulling him forward and snarling. At the surprised look on Alfred's face, Arthur almost smiled but smacked the temptation down in favor to bellow in his face. "If you think- if you even think- for one measly second that I'm going to allow you to-"

"Boys? Alfred, Arthur?'

Arthur let go of Alfred and pushed him away, snapping his attention to Mr. Vargas. He was smiling, tapping his foot, perfectly calm even with the thought of what might've broken out in his classroom had he not stopped it early. The majority of the room was silent, eyes wide and mouths gaped as they stared. A few turned to another, whispering and giggling and gossiping. Arthur inwardly groaned, imaging the pesky rumors that would surely spark up after this incident, spreading to everyone what he did.

And he knew, even with his short time at this school, in this country, that that is what would happen. Every single person would know that Arthur Kirkland threatened the school's favorite golden boy, Alfred F. Jones. Never mind that they wouldn't know what actually happened, what Alfred said, or the circumstances behind it. No, he knew he would be the villain in this one. He was prepared for it. Expected it.

"Sorry, sir. We just had a bit of a... disagreement." He got quieter as he spoke, covering his mouth with his hand.

Mr. Vargas was skeptical. "Are ya sure? It was lookin' as if Arthur was two seconds from punchin' your face in. If you're gonna have a lovers spat, be sure to do it outside of choir."

Color leeched out of Alfred's face as Mr. Vargas wagged his eyebrows, smiling smugly. The class erupted in giggles and chatter, some shouting out to Mr. Vargas to congratulate him on his quick and witty thinking.

At his words, Arthur figured that either Mr. Vargas had no clue of Alfred and Kiku's relationship, or that man had the world's most twisted sense of humor. Arthur smirked. If he was going take an opportunity, Arthur would as well.

"Oh, my apologies, sir. I can assure you, we'll make sure to take it elsewhere next time."

Alfred's head whipped towards Arthur, expression one of pure horror and surprise. He smirked, leaning back in his chair.

Mr. Vargas batted his eyes before breaking into a full chortle. When he finished, he wiped his eyes with his knuckle. "Ah... that's great. I like you, Arthur. This'll be a great year."

Taking in all the envious glances of his clubmates, the fidgeting and harsh breathing of Alfred, and the overall chaos that was to come, Arthur closed his eyes, hung his head, and sighed.

Two weeks in, and he already had no idea what he was doing.

* * *

If Arthur thought the Kirkland dinners were pure Hell, then the mandatory family time afterward was whatever was under. The hour of sitting in the living room, begrudgingly doing the planned activity and suffering the whole way through was established after Arthur's temper tantrum, as it had been dubbed. Which one, he didn't know and didn't care. His mother had named its purpose "family bonding", though Arthur knew it was just so she could show that she was still in control.

Arthur was scribbling drafts down for the next letter, crumbling and tossing them behind him when he found it to be subpar. They had settled on simply comparing Mathias to Magni, God of Strength- or so Lukas had claimed, but that hadn't made anything easier. At least with the story, he could switch out the characters with Mathias and Lukas and weave some flowery words to go with it. But now...

Arthur groaned, carding his fingers through his hair. He was stuck.

As he chucked yet another inked draft over his shoulder, his mother- of course, it had to be her- clicked her tongue. She turned her magazine flat on the arm of the couch, narrowing her eyes. "You are going to be picking those up after you've finished, yes?"

From the occasional glances upwards from his father and Peter, he knew they were listening. Paying attention. It didn't matter.

Not even bothering to stop writing, or even to look up once, he spoke. "I dunno. Maybe I'll get them, maybe I won't." He didn't need to see the look on his mother's face to know that it was there. Arthur weighed the pros and cons of starting yet another argument, but the cons dropped down. He needed her happy.

Which reminded him...

"Excuse me one moment." He stood up from his spot on the floor, arching his back and stretching. Quickly, Arthur ran up the stairs and grabbed his backpack, lugging it back down to the living room. He dropped it with a thump, not caring at all about the contents inside.

His mother watched him as he unzipped the middle pocket, moving several folders around until he found it, and pulled out the packet from earlier. He tossed it to her, the packet twirling before it hit her stomach. Peter snickered but was silenced by a look from their father.

"What's this?" She looked up and down before lifting the page and doing the same to the back. His father looked over her shoulder, eyebrows raised. He grunted, turning back to his book.

Sitting back down and crisscrossing his legs, Arthur propped his chin on his fist. "It's an information packet for the Madrigal choir at school."

A nod. "So you decided to join that. Good."

"Indeed."

he sat there, watching as she tabbed through the packet. When her eyes widened and she stilled, he stood to stand behind her. "What? What's wrong?"

She turned towards him, waving the packet in his face. "Do you see this?"

"No, I can't because you're waving it around like a madwoman." He snatched the packet, glancing down to see what she was flipping out about. There was digits and-

Oh. That's what she was going on about. He handed it back to her, returning to the floor. "That's not too bad."

The packet hit the couch cushion with a crack. Her face was growing red, her jaw clenching. She was angry, and though Arthur originally didn't want to get into it, he was already in the middle. He winced as she yelled. "You want me to spend four hundred dollars for a customized uniform that you'll only wear for a part of one year?"

Peter whistled, mocking a bomb falling from the sky, and, at Arthur's glare, stuck his tongue out and went back to his homework. His father stayed silent, the only indication that he heard what they were saying being a raised brow.

Arthur crossed his arms, cocking his head to the side. "You don't know that, mum. I could do a Madrigal choir in college. I could suddenly become interested in reenactments of the Renaissance period, and when that happens, dearest mother, I'll need my four-hundred dollar customized costume." He smiled, figuring he would seem more agreeable that way.

But, of course, she wouldn't cooperate. She looked at him as if he had gone crazy, with her brow lowered and lips propped up in a sneer. "You want me to do something for you when you've done nothing of what your father and I have asked you to do."

Arthur threw his hands up in the air, shaking his head. "What have you asked me to do in the past month?" By then, his father had closed his book and set it on the end table, leaning back and watching. Peter was still doing his homework but was smiling and bopping his foot, a telltale sign that he actually wasn't paying attention to it.

"A month ago, your father and I told you to become a respectable person. I have not seen any improvement."

The conversation was starting to grow strangely familiar as if he had heard something similar almost every single night. It began to grow old, being yelled at about the same thing daily, and Arthur was sick of it.

He tsked. "You constantly say that, but you've yet to tell me what you think a 'respectable person' is like. It's ridiculous, and, quite honestly, pathetic. You tell me to do something, but don't say anything else. It's just vague words, said over and over again."

And there it was. Arthur getting defensive and angry over something so minor. It was something that was becoming more frequent, at least once a day now, and though he tried to control it, to hold it back, it never worked. Counting to ten, he knew, would not do anything.

Drumming her fingers against the arm of the couch, an infamous Kirkland scowl spread across her face. She was quiet for a couple of minutes, and when she finally spoke, she whispered, growing louder as she went on. "Are you seriously asking me how to be decent? How to not act like a little shit and behave properly instead of yelling and screaming at anyone who doesn't do what you want them to?"

He wasn't going to get into this with her, not with Peter there. Taking a deep breath, running his fingers through the plush, white carpet, Arthur pushed himself up to stand.

His father leaned forward in his chair, propping his elbows on his knees, looking as if he were preparing to break up a fight. It only succeeded in making Arthur angrier, clenching his fists and gritting his teeth, a warmth spreading across his cheeks.

He turned to his mother, put one foot back and the other in line with his shoulders, and bowed with a swivel of a hand and extra flamboyance. When he looked up, the shock on his mother's face was enough to make him smile. "I'll be needing a decision by next Wednesday, Your Majesty." Then he walked away, grabbing his stuff on his way out, towards the stairs, without paying any attention to Peter or his parents or anything.

When he reached his bedroom, he fell against his bed, groaning. It felt as if Arthur was in a circle, going round and round and round, with no planned stop in sight.

* * *

The word of the chapter is 'tsked'.

I put in some foreshadowing of Arthur's plan in a piece of dialogue. See if you could find it ;)

Thank you for reading chapter six of Cross Life! As usual, if you have any problem with the story, don't be afraid to tell me~. I already have chapter seven planned out, and it's going to be more focused on the "Maintaining Allies" subplot than anything else. As in, the whole chapter is going to be The Lukas Initiative. I love that name!

Once again, thank you for reading! Have a wonderful morning, day, and evening!

Also, what do you think of the chapter titles?


	7. A Date to Beat All Dates

It had been three weeks since the delivery of the first letter, and the work had begun to ramp up. The previous week the three had decided to deliver letters every day instead of every other, along with an occasional box of chocolate that Lukas would drop off at Mathias' house. And even with double the work, they had gotten nowhere.

They spent their lunch breaks putting the letters together, Vlad decorating and Lukas picking out the next prompt, and the short time they had after the final bell rang to deliver it. Arthur spent his evenings writing draft after draft, not stopping until he was happy. His rubbish bin was filled with more paper than anything else, and his fingers ached from constantly writing.

By now, he was tired. They were all tired. Exhausted from working nonstop, only for their efforts to turn out fruitless yet again.

And if he were to be honest, Arthur wasn't even sure that Mathias even saw the letters. From what Lukas said, the chocolate boxes disappeared within an hour of returning home, but there was no evidence of the letters. They weren't read at the table during lunch. And while they were sure they were putting them in the right locker, they never found any trace of the letters ever again. Hell, Vlad even checked to see if they had thrown it away, and he found nothing.

Arthur threw the velvet red paper onto the table, pushing it away before crossing his arms. He groaned, carding his fingers through his hair. "I can't do this anymore." In a burst of anger and irritation, Arthur grabbed the letter and ripped it in half, then in quarters. Vlad and Lukas watched with wide eyes and gaped mouths as the gold lettering split apart, Arthur tossing the shredded paper away. "We can't do this anymore."

Vlad nodded, gripping the corner of the table. He sighed, shaking his head, mumbling. "He's right. If we don't stop this now, it'll just go on forever."

Lukas took a swig from his water bottle, a troubled look spreading across his face. "Then what're we gonna do?"

Arthur hated to say it, hated to have to do this to his newly gained friend, but it had to be said. "You need to ask him out. Today. Now."

The table fell silent, the endless chatter of the other students in the courtyard nothing but an annoying buzz in their ears. Every inch of color in Lukas' face had been leeched, and Arthur almost- almost being the key word- took everything back when he started stuttering. "But why would we need to do that?"

Arthur shook his head, softly tsking. "You should be asking why you need to do that."

"But I-"

"No, Lukas. This needs to stop." This was probably the first time Arthur had seen Vlad so serious. The first time that he had seen anything other than a smile on his face. But now, with his tense jaw and hardened eyes... it was unsettling. "If this keeps up, you're only gonna get more worried about it, and you're just gonna suffer. I don't want that for you. You're my friend, so of course I wouldn't."

Lukas' face was steadily growing red, and Arthur tried to ignore the slivers of water building up in his eyes. Lukas looked away, sniffling. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Vlad melt from the look of betrayal on his friends' face. It only made Arthur feel worse.

Lukas shook his head vigorously. "But we still have time. It's only been three weeks. It's barely September. We've got the entire year ahead of us."

Tapping his fingers against the table, Lukas was beginning to look desperate. Arthur reached over to grab his hand, or at least his wrist, in a way that he expected- he hoped- to be comforting. Lukas pulled away from his touch as if it were hot fire.

Nodding, Arthur raised his hands in surrender. He had to admit that this was sudden, and though he knew it would be difficult for Lukas to take, it had to be said. It had to be. Arthur looked to Vlad, hoping that he would take the hint and speak.

And the hint he took. "If Mathias hasn't figured it out yet that you're the one sending those letters, then he isn't gonna figure it out at all. You need to do this."

"But why? Why today?"

Arthur spoke up. "If you don't do it now, then you won't want to do it later." And he knew it was true. On that Friday, the day they delivered their second letter, it took them thirty minutes to get Lukas to slide it in. Thirty minutes of excuse after excuse on why he couldn't do it.

After that incident, along with some extra words from Vlad, Arthur had learned that the only way to get Lukas Bondevik to do something he didn't want to do was to put him in a situation where he couldn't back down. Which was exactly what they were doing by refusing to work with him any longer. He knew it was a cruel, horrible thing to do to a friend, Vlad knew it too, but, at the same time, they were only trying to help him.

Lukas sneered, or as much as one could when they were five seconds from bawling their eyes out. He slammed his hand on the table repeatedly as he yelled his accusations. "You were planning this. When did you go behind my back to think this through, huh? The exact same day you met up at Arthur's house to have a meeting about my love life? Without thinking to invite me or tell me anything?"

Vlad winced at Lukas' words, which were filled with enough venom to kill a grown man. Arthur watched with a deadpan expression, not even bothering to pretend he felt anything from them. "You're overreacting."

Both turned to look at him, different levels of shock splattered across their faces. Lukas was the one who spoke. "Even if I am, I think I have the right to. I never even wanted to do this stupid plan in the first place."

A side of Arthur was beginning to bud out, one that others at this school had seen, but was never supposed to be shown around them. He shoved it down, but that had barely done anything. Arthur gritted his teeth. "Oh, but you were the one who-"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, let's calm down here." Vlad held his arms out as if he was prepared to hold them back. "Lukas, you need to realize that we're doing this for you-"

"You're sounding like a parent who just ruined their kid's life." Arthur inwardly snorted at how accurate that was. What Vlad said sounded exactly like something his mother would say.

"-and the sooner you realize it, the better." Lukas rolled his eyes before wiping one with his knuckle, looking more frustrated than livid. Vlad slowly lowered his arms, breathing out at a similar pace.

Arthur took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. It worked, but just barely. When he was sure he wouldn't start yelling, he spoke. "What do you even have to lose?"

Lukas glared at him, exaggerating an eye roll and huffing. Cocking his head to the side, Arthur smiled, not bothering to hide the sarcasm dripping from it. The already tense atmosphere drowning the table tightened into something worse.

"Really, if you think about it, I've got nothin' to lose. Only my dignity, my pride, and my ability to show my face outside of my house."

Vlad snickered, leaning back. "Now, you're overreacting."

Lukas gave him a withering glare before deflating. He hung his head, groaning and looking absolutely defeated. "What do I need to do?"

Arthur smirked, feeling smug from finally having won. He didn't care what Lukas was thinking, only that he was ready to go with what Arthur wanted him to do. He pointed to the "popular" table, as he had heard it called, and kept pointing even when he turned back to Lukas. "Swallow your fear, walk over to that table, get the golden retriever, and confess your heart out."

"It's not as easy as you make it sound."

"Then make it that easy."

Vlad smiled, the mood letting up a tiny bit. "Mhm, mhm. You'll do great, Lukas. Really, you're a catch. Mathias would be insane to reject ya." At Lukas' wide eyes, Vlad shook his head, waving his hands in an attempt to clear up what he said. "Not that he would."

Lukas averted his eyes, brow lowering. He bit his bottom lip, scraping his teeth against it. Arthur watched him, scanning for any sign that he might start backing out again.

"Do it, Lukas." Arthur leaned in, the metal rim of the table pressing into his stomach. He braced his hands against it."Do it, or I'll drag you over there and make you do it."

Vlad nodded with a slightly worried-looking smile. "We won't make you do it, but we highly recommend it."

Huffing, Lukas stood from his seat, clenching his shaking fists. A soft breeze blew through his hair, battling against the heat of summer's last stand. Lukas watched the table that was either the beginning of his demise or his salvation, glaring at it as if it were a thousand piece puzzle.

When he was still standing there after about a minute, clenching and unclenching his fists over and over again, Arthur felt the need to speak up. "Er, Lukas?" Arthur waved him along when he turned, receiving a glare as a reply.

He and Vlad watched together as Lukas approached his fate, looking back a few times as if he couldn't believe he was actually doing it. Each time he did so, the two nodded him on, leaning in closer.

Vlad murmured to Arthur, covering his mouth so Lukas wouldn't notice. "Ya think this is gonna work out?"

A look of certainty. "Definitely." It wasn't until he propped his chin on his palm, thinking about it for a second, that he added more. "Well, if Mathias likes him back, then it would be a definitely. If he doesn't, though..."

"That would be a big problem."

"A huge one."

Almost everyone at the table turned their attention to him when Lukas stopped, and Arthur could practically see the anxiety radiating off of him. Vlad winced at the way they stared at Lukas and the way he seemed to crumble under those stares.

As Lukas started talking, Arthur and Vlad too far away to hear anything, a few sets of eyes narrowed. Lukas nodded, jerking his head over to an empty, cut-off space in the corner of the courtyard.

"Holy shit," Arthur hissed to Vlad. He watched, eyes wide, as a boy stood from the table. With blond hair wild enough to make a lion's mane look tame, blue eyes, and enough freckles on his face and arms to cover the whole of London, Arthur could see it. He could definitely see it. "At first, I thought you were joking about the Human Golden Retriever thing, but my lord..."

Vlad tipped his head back and chortled, slowly clapping his hands as he did so. When he finished, he looked at Arthur, snorting. "Just wait until ya start talkin' to him. If we ever get a chance to after this is over, that is."

Arthur nodded, scanning around for where Lukas went off to. He found him standing near a column, Mathias leaning against it. It looked tense, with Lukas running his hands over his face and Mathias giving stiff nods with crossed arms.

He could see those at the other table watching too, except for one. Alfred was glaring directly at Arthur with suspicion. Anger. Worry. Concern. Arthur didn't even want to consider what Alfred was thinking at that very moment, but he could assume. Alfred had made it very clear of what he thought about Arthur and his "diabolical" plans. If he were to be honest, Arthur had half the mind to prove him right, if only Mathias didn't mean so much to Lukas.

Vlad fidgeted with his fingers before sticking his thumb in his mouth. It seemed to be a nervous habit of his to chew on his fingernails and the flesh around them, considering the jagged tips and red skin. Arthur didn't say anything about it, didn't want to waste his time on something so trivial, but it did look like it hurt, with all those hangnails and cuts.

"Arthur?"

He grabbed his water bottle, taking a swig. "Yes?"

"What if this doesn't work?" Vlad was looking at him with worry. Pure, unbridled worry.

Arthur took another swig, swishing the water around his mouth before swallowing. He turned to Vlad, raising an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

He knew what Vlad was talking about. He knew exactly. But he had to get him to start rambling, if only to pass the time and take his attention away from what was happening.

"Uh- I mean, what if this doesn't work out? What if Lukas and Mathias don't work out. What if we ruin his one chance?" Vlad smoothed his hair back, wincing from the sun. "I don't want to be the one who destroyed my best friend's senior year."

Arthur took a deep breath, letting it all out and hanging his head. He had no idea what to say. Comforting was never something he was even remotely good at, and usually when he tried, Arthur only made things worse. Which he was sure he was just about to do.

"If anything, I'll be the one to blame." Vlad gave him an odd, confused look, forcing Arthur to explain. "I was the one who started this whole thing. Suggested that Lukas should go after him and that we form a plan."

Vlad's eyes widened, mouth pressing into a fine line. It almost looked comical. "You? But you-"

Their attention snapped to Lukas as he slammed down onto the table, burying his head in his arms. From a quick glance to the side, Arthur could see Mathias jogging back to his own table, though his expression was illegible. It made Arthur start to think the worst.

Vlad gingerly grabbed Lukas' arm, giving it a small, soft shake. "Lukas? Are ya alright?"

When he didn't budge, Arthur and Vlad shared a look of concern. None of this looked good, especially the loud howls of laughter and clapping coming from the other table. Arthur clenched his fists, gritting his teeth.

"Lu-"

The words that flew out of Lukas' mouth were too fast for Arthur to even begin to dissect. He narrowed his eyes, taking in his friend's expression.

He wasn't crying, which was good, and was, in fact, doing the opposite. Lukas' smile was the widest he'd ever seen it, showing off straight, pearly-white teeth. Though his face was still red- most likely from the embarrassment of confessing his love to his long-time crush- there was no sign of any negative emotion.

Leaning in so he could hear better, Arthur cocked his head to the side and narrowed his eyes. "I'm sorry, what?"

"Mathias asked me out on a date."

Arthur did a quick scan around the courtyard for any listeners as Vlad perked up. "Really? When?"

Lukas took a deep breath, smile growing even wider. "This Friday evening."

The whoops and hollers from their table grabbed the attention of almost every single person in the courtyard.

* * *

Though the incident had happened multiple times throughout his many years of life, Arthur still felt uncomfortable every time he visited a friend's house.

Sure, Lukas' house was nice. Really nice. But even the faint scent of pine and lavender and the various hues of blue- which were supposed to be relaxing, he had once read- did nothing to calm his nerves. Not even a little bit.

They were currently in Lukas' room, picking out an outfit for his date that evening. Going through his friend's closet, Arthur felt as if he were in a cheesy romance movie from the Hallmark Channel. His mother had become a rabid fan in the few weeks since their move, so Arthur was sure he would know.

"Sweaters, vests, sweater vests." Vlad went through Lukas' rather small closet, pulling out possible contenders and tossing them on the bed. "Jesus Christ, Lukas, how many pairs of sweatpants do you have? Have you ever heard of somethin' called a pair of shorts? Or maybe jeans?"

Arthur snorted as he continued searching. He had to agree, Lukas' clothing choices were severely limited. The main colors were blue, black and white, Arthur finding the occasional purple. It reminded him of his own wardrobe, or at least before his mother got her thin, spindly fingers on it.

"I do have jeans. Shorts, too." Lukas crossed his arms, giving a defensive look. "They're just packed up for the summer."

Vlad turned around, throwing his hands up. "Why would you pack up the jeans, but not sweatpants? Why not just leave the shorts?" Arthur nodded. He did have a point.

"'Cause he's weird." The three turned to a boy standing in the doorway. Immediately, Arthur figured out who he was, the resemblance to prominent to ignore.

"Emil, go away." Lukas dismissed his younger brother with a short wave of his hand, smirking when Vlad laughed.

Emil rolled his eyes, sticking his tongue out. As he walked away, he murmured, but not too soft that they couldn't hear. "Have fun with your date. Remember to sock it before ya knock it."

Lukas' eyes widened to the size of saucers as Arthur and Vlad started howling. He gave them a look that screamed for them to knock it off. If only made them laugh harder.

"Stop encouraging him."

Arthur wiped away invisible tears with his knuckle. Once his chuckles faded, which took quite a while, he let his curiosities get the better of him. "How old's your brother?"

"He's a sophomore."

Arthur nodded slowly. "My brother's in the-" It took a moment for him to remember."-eighth grade."

Vlad tipped his head back and cackled. He left his position from the closet, falling onto Lukas' bed, stretching out. He sighed, smiling. "I remember when I was in the eighth grade. Not a time I would like to relive."

The three shared a laugh at that, Arthur looking back to his younger self as they did so. He could agree with Vlad, that wasn't someone he wanted to be again. Listening to his parents' every word as if it were law, working and working until he couldn't work anymore, his only goal to be the favorite son. To beat his older brothers and win that title. He would later learn that it was all useless, and he cringed at that particularly bad memory.

Lukas' phone buzzed from its spot on the wooden end table. He grabbed it, pressing the side, carefully keeping it on the charger, before dropping it back on the table. He turned to them, eyes wide, face as white as snow. "He said he's about to head out."

"Shit." Arthur stalked over to the closet, pulling the doors wide open. They didn't have much time. If he remembered correctly, Mathias literally lived next door. "Where do you keep your jeans?"

Vlad lifted his head. "Jeans? It's the beginning of September!"

"We're out of time. Stop arguing."

Lukas stood from the foot of his bed, walking towards the closet. He put his foot on a box, lifting himself up to the very top shelf. He looked back. "What color?"

Vlad glanced at them from the side, still laying on the bed. "Black. You can match it with a blue sweater and have a white collared shirt or somethin' like that under it."

Lukas considered it before nodding. "Sounds great. Arthur?"

"Decent enough."

Once Lukas was dressed, they were left to wait. Arthur had long learned that in the US, someone who was "about to head out" could be either a minute from leaving their house or fifteen minutes. It was incredibly inconsistent, and kind of annoying.

As they flicked through the television, skipping the channels on commercial break, finally settling on some show about how things were made, the realization sunk in. Well, for Lukas, it did.

Lukas tapped his foot against the plush carpet, fidgeting. He took a deep breath, it shaking as he let it out. "What if this was a mistake?"

Arthur groaned, leaning back and giving Vlad a look. He could seriously not be backing down now. At this time of this day. Honestly.

With another pointed look sent to Vlad, he finally got the hint. Sitting up, he crawled over to Lukas, setting his hand on his shoulder. "Lukas, if it was a mistake, Mathias wouldn't kinda sorta be on his way. And if you turn him down at the door- not saying that you would- it would just make everything worse. Everything's gonna be fine, I'm sure it'll be, but ya gotta stop worryin'."

Lukas sighed, deflating. As Vlad whispered to him, his head being held in his hands, Arthur looked out the window.

He assigned himself to the job of watching out for Mathias, and while it wasn't the most glorious thing to do, it was still something. Arthur strained his head to see the driveway next door, waiting for a car to start up. He knew that Mathias might choose to come get Lukas first and have them walk over, so he kept an eye out for the boy himself, too.

Even at this time of the evening, it was still boiling hot for Arthur's standards. The window was hot as he rested his hand on it, pulling it back when the heat got too strong. He pitied Lukas for his outfit, hoping for his friend's sake that Mathias' car had a working air-conditioner. Arthur hoped for his own that Vlad's did, too.

He winced a tiny bit as a set of headlights lit up, flashing light into his eyes as the car pulled out of the driveway next door and moved into Lukas'. As the car parked and the owner stepped out, straightening the sleeve to his plain, red sweater, Arthur took a deep breath. "He's here."

Vlad swore, Lukas standing on shaky legs. He breathed in, turning back towards Vlad and Arthur. "I guess this is it." He smacked his hands against his thighs. Arthur almost snorted at how cliché it looked.

Vlad opened his mouth to speak, but Arthur, fearing what positive rubbish he would spout, cut him off. "Well, you best not keep your date waiting."

Lukas protested as he was pushed out of his room and towards the stairs. He stumbled down the very top step but started a steady stream of thumps and creaks going down the others. As the doorbell rang, Vlad and Arthur disappeared into Lukas' room- or, as much as they could and still see what was happening.

The screech of the door made its way throughout the house as Lukas opened it, his excitement radiating in waves. Mathias was smiling as his face came into view, a single dimple appearing next to the corner of his mouth.

"Hey, Lukas! Ya ready to go?"

Lukas nodded, pulling the hem of his sweater down. With an "oh" that they could barely hear, he turned around. "I'm heading out, see y'all later."

Arthur quietly chuckled at his use of "y'all". He had been in the States for a little more than a month now, and the word still didn't fail to make him laugh.

However, he didn't realize Lukas' farewell needed a response until Vlad spoke, his voice high in an attempt to sound like a woman. "Yes, yes. Have fun! Be back by 10:30, sweetie!"

From the shake of his shoulders, Arthur knew Lukas was trying his best not to laugh. Hell, Arthur was trying, too. Vlad's voice, while it had the best intentions, came out as if he were kicked in a more sensitive area, and, at the same time, was trying to sing high soprano. Arthur was doing good not breaking into a full chortle.

The door slammed shut, blanketing the house in silence once more. Arthur and Vlad relaxed, knowing that they no longer had to stay hidden.

Looking over to Vlad, he waited until he could hear the car rolling out of the driveway before he spoke. "Is it our turn now?"

Vlad wiggled his eyebrows, Arthur smacking his shoulder for making his statement sound sexual. The two ducked back into Lukas' room, Arthur moving to shove on his loafers. Vlad grabbed his keys, jingling them with a bright smile. "Ready for a night of friendly and protective stalking?"

* * *

The café Mathias had taken Lukas to was nice, in Arthur's opinion. Smooth, light music played in the background, giving a laidback mood. Arthur took another sip of his tea, happy that it had finally cooled down to a drinkable temperature, setting the cup down on the wooden table.

Even from their location in the corner- completely inconspicuous to any would-be snoopers- they could clearly see Lukas and Mathias and still be close enough should anything happen. Which was good. Really good.

Their friend's date seemed to be going well, Lukas constantly breaking into a laugh and Mathias' smile never leaving his face. Nothing truly interesting was going on, and while Arthur was enjoying spending time with Vlad, he was slowly growing bored.

Taking another sip from his tea and sending a quick glance at his menu, Arthur looked at Vlad. "Why are we even doing this?"

Vlad lifted his head up from pouring yet another pack of sugar into his beverage, dropping the paper into an ever-growing pile. As he spoke, he picked up the red stirrer next to his mug, the coffee whirling as he stirred. "Whaddaya mean?"

"We're sitting here, just watching and intruding on our friend's date."

With a raised eyebrow, Vlad stopped his stirring, turning his attention fully to Arthur. "You didn't seem so against it when we were pulling out of his driveway."

Arthur pursed his lips, acknowledging the point he made. He sighed, carding his fingers through his hair, not entirely appreciating Vlad's tone.

He noticed it to be his new habit recently, messing with his hair. And while he still mourned the loss of his precious piercings, Arthur no longer felt the need to constantly check the holes to see if they were there.

At that thought, he shook his head vigorously, knowing where his mind would begin to trail off to. That fact didn't mean he wasn't going to stick his piercings back in the second he permanently moved out of that infernal household, and felt ashamed of himself that he even began to think in his parents'- most specifically, his mother's- point of view.

Vlad chuckled as he watched Arthur, sipping his coffee with a smirk on his face. He cringed, reaching over to grab another packet of sugar. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." If he said anything else, then Vlad might start asking questions. Then Arthur would have to start explaining-

He sighed. Arthur didn't even want to think about that right now.

Vlad snorted, then broke into a chuckle. When he spoke, amusement dripped from his voice. "Are ya sure? It was lookin' like you were getting possessed or somethin' like that."

Arthur laughed, picking up the menu. He had already decided what he wanted and was sure that Vlad had done the same as well, but it was something to help pass the time. Beside their talking and stalking, of course. "Of course, that's the first thing that pops into your mind."

At another loud set of laughter coming from the two love-buzzards, Vlad turned to look over his shoulder. Arthur leaned to the side, if only to be able to see without Vlad's big head in the way. The two had arrived a bit earlier than them, Arthur and Vlad having been caught at almost every stop light, and Arthur inwardly sighed at the thought that those two would get food earlier than they would. It had been a long time since lunch.

Vlad turned back around, giving the two some privacy. He clicked his tongue. "For someone who couldn't say a single word to Mathias for- what? Nine, ten years. he's been a bit chatty this evening."

Arthur nodded slowly, taking a sip of his tea. It would be empty soon, at the rate he was drinking it. "It's a miracle." Vlad laughed, looking off to the side as he did so. Arthur tapped his fingers against the table as he continued, the noise of the café just barely blocking out the blunt thumping. "You know... on Monday when I said I was going to drag Lukas over to that table if he didn't do so himself, I really was prepared."

Vlad chuckled. "I know that. You're more... hands-on than ya look, and ever since that letter delivery thing, I've kinda dubbed you as this fearless, macho guy who gets shit done."

Vlad was laughing by the end of his sentence, and Arthur couldn't help it. He laughed, too. Though whether it was at what Vlad said or at himself, Arthur had no clue.

Their waitress came by, a whirlwind of smiles and polite words. Even as he placed his order, she kept smiling, and Arthur couldn't help but think it looked fake. Everything, everyone in this country looked and sounded fake. Like plastic. He wondered how they weren't so tired from pretending to be someone else. But, at the same time, Arthur supposed that he was pretending, too.

Arthur watched the waitress walk away, and as she disappeared into the kitchen, he caught a look of something much more interesting. "Oh- my- God." He narrowed his eyes, forcing them to look as murderous as he felt.

Vlad gave him a confused look, turning in his chair to see where Arthur was staring. He froze, swearing a filthy word that Arthur had never heard come out of his mouth before. If they weren't in this quickly descending situation, Arthur would have the gall to look surprised.

On the other side of the café, seated in one of the large booths lining the wall, was around thirty percent of Mathias' social group. Or, thirty percent of those who sat at lunch with him. That percentage including Alfred and Satan's favorite spawn, Kiku.

Vlad clicked his tongue, shaking his head and rolling his eyes. "They must be here to watch Mathias."

He didn't break eye contact, just kept staring, his suspicions rising. Not wanting to leave Vlad without a reply, Arthur spoke. "Or they're waiting so they can watch Mathias dump Lukas in front of everyone and mock him."

Vlad swore again, looking back at Mathias. "You really think he would do that? Mathias is such a nice guy. All of them are, really."

He snorted, still not looking away. "Isn't that what they always say, even when they do something awful and monstrous? 'Oh, he couldn't do that! He's such a nice guy!'"

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Vlad nod. "Yeah, I guess that's true."

He didn't say anything back. As if Arthur had burned a hole into the side of his head, Alfred turned to face him. They stared, Arthur barely blinking. A movement of lips. Kiku turned to face him, along with the rest of the table. A contest began, one to see whose will would break first. Arthur won.

Alfred stood, walking towards the bathroom. Arthur snarled a quick, "I'll be back. Don't move," stalking after him.

He yanked the door handle open. One step towards Alfred, his face surprised as Arthur slammed him against the white tile wall. "What do you and your pathetic excuses of lackeys think you're doing?" The stalls were open. There was no one else in the room.

Alfred pushed his chest. He stumbled before regaining his balance. He didn't expect that but didn't show any surprise.

Arthur looked down. Alfred's fist was clenching and unclenching. He smirked. "Do it." He nodded to Alfred's fist. "Do it. Punch me in the face. I know you want to."

Alfred stepped back, horrified. He let out a hard breath. Arthur looked for a weak point to hit.

Alfred was leaning back on his right foot, so his left... there. Arthur surged forward, going for his shoulder and slamming Alfred against the wall. This time, he didn't fight back. Good.

Alfred shied away. He winced. "Wh-what the hell is wrong with you?"

Arthur laughed bitterly. "What the hell is wrong with me? What about you? Bringing all your friends to watch Mathias ruin my friend's life-"

"What? Is that what ya think is happening? If anything, you're the ones who're gonna ruin Mathias' life! He's been waitin' for somethin' like this to happen for years. Years! And then you just walk in and-"

"Alfred? You in here?"

Everything slowed as Kiku gingerly tip-toed into the room, looking ever the concerned boyfriend. Arthur swore. His eyes narrowed at the sight of Arthur pressed against Alfred, a sneer on his face. "What're you guys doing?"

Alfred pushed Arthur back, though this time, he was anticipating it. Alfred's smile was back, though Arthur- any fool who could see would be able to, really- noticed that it didn't reach his eyes. Setting a hand on his boyfriend's shoulder, Alfred let out a shaky laugh. "Hey, babe! Don't worry, it's nothin'"

Kiku shook his hand away, still keeping eye contact with Arthur. "Pardon me for saying this, Alfred, but it does look like somethin's happening."

Arthur rolled his eyes before throwing his hands up, faking a look of wonder. "Oh my God! Oh- my- God. I cannot believe it. You did it. You did it, Sherlock! You solved the case! Who would've thought that there was something going on? I've been in the room the entire time, and the thought would have never crossed my mind!" Arthur smacked the side of his head, his faux wonder growing.

The hatred on his face was starting to look comical, Kiku looking almost feral. Arthur smirked, knowing that he had set him off and he was the sole object of Kiku's hatred. It was a fantastic feeling.

Alfred looked between the two with a worried expression. He inched towards the door, wrapping his arm around Kiku's waist. "Alright, babe, let's go. Arthur isn't worth our time, ok?"

Arthur scowled at his last comment, but let it go, if only because it was getting that piece of trash away from him and out of his face. Kiku grumbled as Alfred led him out of the bathroom, still glaring at Arthur.

The bathroom fell silent as the door shut, save for a faint vibration sounding. He patted around his trousers for his cell phone. When he felt the lump in his back pocket, he pulled it out, reading the name and groaning. His mother.

He pressed the accept button, holding it up to his ear. When she started speaking, he winced, moving his head away to save his ears from violent murder.

 _"Arthur Kirkland, I swear to God, if you don't get your arse home right now I will-"_

"I'll be home later, calm down." The cell phone beeped as he hung up, shoving it back into his pocket.

As he left the bathroom and headed back to his table, his hands shoved inside his pockets, Arthur felt multiple sets of eyes watching him. Including Vlad's. Mathias and Lukas weren't paying attention to anyone but each other, as he was sure they had done all night.

When he slid into his chair, his food having arrived and steaming hot, Vlad pounced on him as a viper would its prey. "Arthur! What happened? Is everything alright?"

He nodded, picking up his fork and knife to dig into his pancakes. Just before it was too late, however, he remembered the maple syrup, the tiny bottle that came with his plate still warm.

"Nothing really happened. Alfred and I just had a bit of a... disagreement. Then Kiku showed up and did Kiku things."

Vlad snorted. "'Kiku things'. Gold."

Arthur laughed, shaking his head. "So, what did I miss?" They went over the finer details of the past five minutes, going back and forth between each other's points of view, eating their dinner as they talked. Occasionally, they would check on their friend and his date, thought the time between each of those checks grew more and more, and the time spent on them less and less. He was sure they didn't really care, though, or noticed that they were even at the café.

And though he knew he would suffer for it later, and eventually be forced to regret it, Arthur's phone buzzed all night, even as he slept over at Lukas' house, his date declared successful. And he didn't bother to answer or even look at it.

Not even once.

* * *

Thank you for reading Cross Life Chapter Seven! You might be wondering why this chapter has been posted on Friday instead of Sunday. Well, my answer to that is that I'm going on a trip and won't be able to take my laptop. This is a one-time thing, and after this, updates will go back to the normal every other Sunday.

I've been debating this for a while, and since I can't come up with something, I'll just ask you guys, my readers. Regarding the accents of the characters, should I keep them or not? My original plan was to tone them down as the story went on and Arthur got used to them, but I don't really know anymore...

Once again, thank you for reading Cross Life Chapter Seven, I hope you all have a wonderful morning, day, and evening!


	8. D' Stands for 'Don't Bother'

Vlad pulled into Arthur's driveway, his brakes squeaking as his car came to a stop. Arthur stepped out, thanking him before shutting the door.

It was the morning after Lukas' legendary date, and Arthur was preparing himself for what was to come. Though, at this moment, the near future mattered much more than the distant.

He had to admit that hanging up on his mother last night wasn't the most calculated decision. It was done out of impulse, out of his severe unwant of hearing his mother's nasally, squeaking voice. Considering that, and the fact that his cell phone had died around nine-thirty that evening from her constant calling, Arthur felt his actions justified.

Though he knew that she wouldn't feel the same.

Arthur waved as Vlad left, smiling until he could no longer see his car. Strolling up the walkway, paying no attention to the vibrant flowers along it, he jiggled the front door handle, surprised to find it open. His parents weren't ones to leave the door unlocked, so this was a clear sign of Arthur's impending doom. They were expecting him, but that didn't mean that they would actually see him.

Looking around for any possible neighbors watching, Arthur opened the door and snuck in. He was aware that he looked like a burglar at that moment, but who would rob a house at ten in the morning? On a Saturday, no less? Certainly not anyone who graduated secondary school.

A creak sounded through the entry hall as he shut the door. He cringed at it. Looking around, from what he could see, no one was up yet, so as long as he was quiet upstairs, Arthur was home-free.

Silently, Arthur tiptoed to the living room, imagining he was a spy as extra motivation. As a child, he dreamed of being one, but his parents quickly shut the idea down. Now, the dream was only a husk of what it once was, but he still kept those skills he had developed all those years ago. They became handy when he needed to do something stealthy, such as sneak in and out of his house.

He started moving faster the closer he got to the living room, getting an eyeful of the staircase just before-

"Arthur Kirkland, where have you been?"

He groaned, standing up to his full height and turning to face his mother. Sitting in the green armchair at the back of the room, her eyes were cold and harsh, her lips pursed into a fine line. A magazine was laying open on the armrest.

She bopped her crossed leg, the fabric of her polka-dot pajama pants bouncing as she did so. She grabbed her magazine, closing it and tossing it onto the coffee table as she stood. He found it difficult to take her seriously in that getup, especially when she put her hands on her hips, cocking her head to the side. "Where have you been?" She emphasized and laced more anger in her words the second time.

Arthur snorted, strolling to the stairs. "Out. With friends. Where else did you think I would be?"

With an unsatisfied huff, she followed him, grabbing his elbow and pulling him back just as he was about to step onto the first step.

He let out an undignified squeak, his shoulders tensing up. Arthur quickly recovered, whipping around to face her.

They were close enough that he could feel wisps of her breath blow on his face. Arthur cringed at the stale smell of whatever was for dinner last night. He didn't even want to begin figuring out what it was, in fear of death by foul morning breath.

The skin around her eyes scrunched together as she spoke, and she stepped back as Arthur's disgust grew more apparent. "Did you not think to tell me that you were going out? Or that you were staying over at someone's house?"

Arthur raised an eyebrow. He couldn't believe she was actually trying to make him sound like the villain. As if she were the oh-so-innocent victim. Narrowing his eyes, he hissed., "Would you have let me go, even if I asked?" Arthur put extra emphasis on the last word, attempting to drive the point home.

She looked taken back, bringing a hand up to her chest, stumbling over her words as she tried to defend herself. Arthur smirked, feeling smug to have rendered her speechless for once.

He turned towards the stairs, running up them, stopping when he thought of something else to say. "Oh, and mother." She looked up at him from eh landing, a boiling rage clouding her features. From her tense jaw, he knew there would be a "conversation" at dinner that evening. "Sitting in the living room, reading, waiting for me to return to give the line, 'Where have you been,'? Where did you get that? The Hallmark Channel? That's so cliché. Be more creative."

The noise that came out of her mouth was a mix between a dying cat in heat and a whale. He snorted, leaving her behind to plan whatever else she could do to ruin his life.

Upon reaching the hallway, he slowed to a lethargic stroll, not giving a care in the world at that moment. Even if his father were to come stalking out of his bedroom, Arthur wouldn't even glance at him. He took his time examining each of the photos and paintings lining the hall, even if he knew the time and story behind them.

Many of them featured his older brothers, and he sneered at their freckled faces. His father had been reluctant about leaving them in the UK, but Arthur felt it was one of the best things to happen to him. He would finally get some peace, only to fall into a different kind of chaos.

"Arthur?" He turned to see Peter standing in the doorway of his bedroom. He wore his favorite sailor pajamas, its threads worn thin and a small hole forming in the left knee. Their mother had been trying to get rid of them for weeks, but she just couldn't say no to Little Peter. It made Arthur's blood boil at the thought of how much she babied him.

"What do you want?" He didn't want this conversation to last long. Arthur's goal at the moment- though he wasn't taking it too seriously- was to get a hot shower. His hair felt greasy and dirty, a feeling which he despised.

"You weren't home last night." Peter kicked the hardwood, his sock whooshing against it.

"No, I wasn't."

"Why?" His voice was curious, and there was something else in it that Arthur just couldn't put his finger on. That he didn't want to put his finger on.

He pursed his lips, shaking his hair out of his eyes. Arthur thought of something that wouldn't get Peter asking questions, and said the first thing that popped into his mind. "I needed to get out."

"Oh." Peter nodded, continuing to kick his foot against the floor. For some reason Arthur couldn't even begin to think of, he sounded almost disappointed.

Arthur walked to his bedroom door, suddenly not in the mood to look at any more pieces of artwork. As he turned the handle, about to walking in, Peter spoke again.

"We had pizza for dinner last night." His voice was smug, as if he was confident that he got something Arthur didn't. He remembered himself feeling the same way with his older brothers, but it never lasted long.

Smirking at the fact that Peter was himself again, and not whatever he had morphed into a few moments before, Arthur decided to crunch his confidence into dust. "What? Pizza? Made by Mum? I had chocolate pancakes, and they were damn good, too."

Arthur cackled as he entered his room, Peter whining and telling him to burn in hell. Everything fell silent as he shut the door, and he sighed, taking it all in.

Last night, as the three of them were setting up their "snooze zone", as it had been called, Arthur felt a change shifting in. It crawled up his back like an army of spiders, and he rolled his shoulders at the memory of it. He had felt it before, when they were about to board the plane to the US. At the time, he felt it was nothing and ignored it, but now...

He was prepared for whatever was to come.

The water was steaming hot as he stepped in. He moaned as it showered onto his hair, hanging his head and shutting his eyes. He mentally checked to see it he remembered to lock the doors, but stopped when he realized he didn't care. Arthur reached for his shampoo bottle, clicking off the top and squeezing some into his hand.

Arthur stepped back from the water, running the shampoo through his hair. He scrubbed it into a bubbly lather, the shampoo squelching as he pushed and pulled.

As soapy water ran down the drain, Arthur stared. Streams of it whirled before being sucked in, rushing onto where ever it went. If only his worries and problems- no, if only he could wash away the same way.

* * *

Over the past few weeks, Arthur had seriously begun to wonder how in the world Mr. Vargas hadn't been fired yet. Sure, he would eventually put in grades- "eventually" being the key word- and did what the administrators wanted him to do when he had the time.

The thing was, he constantly made jokes at his students' expenses. He cursed enough to make a sailor wince, trashed his co-workers, and went on long talks about his past and recent escapades. Occasionally, when someone or something made him really angry, he would spend the entire period or practice ranting. That had happened twice this year already.

But what confused him the most was the fact that the class seemed to enjoy it. They laughed at his jokes, no matter what they were, some more than others. Students asked a multitude of questions during his stories, which only seemed to encourage Mr. Vargas, Once, someone even stood to act out what he was saying, causing Mr. Vargas to promise her extra credit in the participation part of her grade. It baffled Arthur to no end, and as each day passed, his confusion grew worse.

They were currently in Madrigal practice, Mr. Vargas speaking with Roderich. The latter was, as usual, sitting at the piano, his fingers ghosting over the keys.

Arthur was sitting in his section seat, his binder- half an inch, no more, no less- laying flat on his lap. He was ready to go, but everyone else was not. Multiple students were out of their seats, some in a completely different section. From just happening to see him, Arthur knew that Alfred was standing in the back with some other tenors and a few basses, doing whatever fools did when they had free time.

"Ok." Mr. Vargas smacked the top of the piano, chuckling when Roderich jumped. He walked to the front of the room, clapping his hands loudly. "Ok, ok! Get to your seats before I drag ya!"

Arthur watched with hidden wonder as everyone scrambled to their assigned seats, exchanging amused and relieved glanced with friends. He himself sat up, making a space between his back and his chair.

It was strange, the effect Mr. Vargas had on his students. They followed his every word, talked about him, admired him. Hell, Arthur wouldn't be surprised if a couple people in here feared the man. He apparently had the capacity to be frightening if need be, though Arthur hadn't seen it yet.

By now, Arthur had gotten used to Mr. Vargas' loud voice, so he barely made a wince when he started speaking. "Now, before we begin, I've a few announcements to make." He waved his hand, signaling Roderich to play three low, ominous notes, over and over again. Acting as if he were from a cheesy vampire horror movie, Mr. Vargas continued. "You may know of Madrigal practices on Wednesday, but now-" He took a dramatic pause, looking around the room. The music Roderich was playing abruptly stopped, and in a voice similar to one you would use with an infant, Mr. Vargas screeched, "It's on Mondays and Fridays, too!"

The class was divided into groans and squeals, some more exaggerated than others. Arthur himself felt indifferent, as it was less time alone, but, at the same time, an excuse to get away from his parents. They had grounded him for a month, no leaving the house alone in the evening or having anyone over, but this was a school activity, so he guessed it would get by.

Mr. Vargas feigned offense at the resistance, his eyes and mouth dramatically wide and gaped. He put his hand on his chest and breathed in, which made Arthur snort. That was one of his mother's favorite moves.

"C'mon, y'all! I know ya got work- well, everyone except the sophomores and Michelle, can't ruin those manicured nails-" He wiggled his fingers as the choir laughed, some calling out the mentioned soprano. "-but I'm sure you can work somethin' out. Plus, who wants to go to work, anyways? Not me."

A few nods of agreement at the last part. Whispering engulfed the room, and Mr. Vargas smirked, most likely knowing that he was in his students' good graces once more.

Arthur watched as Mr. Vargas walked around the piano and towards the door. "One more thing." He picked up a neon green sheet of paper- Arthur didn't understand why he wouldn't just use white- waving it in the air above his head. "If ya haven't started gettin' your costume customized or whatever else needs to be done, I highly suggest you get that taken care of. We start performing in November- I know, right, shocker- and I want y'all lookin' nice n' old time-y. This paper has a list of suggested tailors. Get one on your way out if ya need it."

As Mr. Vargas went on, Arthur eyed the stack of paper. He had already placed an order for his own costume, his mother giving suggestions about the design. It was strange how she had managed to go from the Kraken's worse nightmare to a doting mother between being at home and out in public.

But even then, as the tailor listed the prices for various accessories and adornments, he could feel her sharp fingernails digging into his shoulder, her cheery facade growing tighter and tighter as she tried to keep it on. He had gotten a venom-filled tongue lashing in the car afterward.

"Ok, now that that's over, let's get started! I really hope y'all've been workin' at home, 'cause thirty songs are a bitch to memorize. He waited until the chuckles died out to continue. "Let's- uh... let's do the one we started last week. See how far y'all got on that."

As the piano started the introduction, Arthur sat up, keeping his binder low enough that he could read the notes but still see Mr. Vargas. The others did the same, their chatter ceased, the concentration of the choir tuned to the sheet music and their conductor.

Arthur took a deep breath before their starting note, counting in his head until his section began to sing. He followed the ink on the page, looking down to the solfege he marked the week prior if he got stuck somewhere.

Mr. Vargas quietly whispered for them to stay on beat, waving his right hand to go along with it. His other hand flowed with the music, marking a pause for one section and a start up for another. At times, he motioned for Roderich to stop, if only to remind them all that they would be singing acapella at their performances.

Arthur panicked a tiny bit as they entered a new part, and he tried his best to not let it show. His voice shook with uncertainty, and the only reason he didn't stop was that he heard the same shake in the voices of his section mates.

He tried his best to go along, but sightreading had never been his strong suit. When he sang for his church back in England, they occasionally did lessons, but they were half-assed at best. It didn't help that the sopranos were going on a strong crescendo, overpowering the rest of the choir. As they hit a particularly high note, Arthur could feel the light pound of a headache coming along.

He knew that it would only get worse.

By then, he was completely in the dark. From the corner of his eye, he could see that he was receiving odd looks from those next to him, the reassurance that they were as lost as he was crumbling.

Arthur stared at his solfege with enough power to burn a hole through it. He just needed something, anything to show him what to do before it-

"Stop." The singing in the room ceased at Mr. Vargas' command, the only noise the quickly fading sound of the piano. Arthur lowered his binder, his cheeks burning from embarrassment and shame. He had failed, which was the one thing he hated most. Pressure started to build up behind his eyes, but he squeezed his fingernails into the meat of his palm, willing it away.

Clearing his throat, Mr. Vargas flipped a page back, scanning it up and down. Arthur lifted his binder up, sensing that they were going to start again. He could hear everyone else around him do the same.

"Measure forty-eight to measure sixty-six. Starting word: 'The'. Everyone, one- two- three-"

Arthur followed along, breathing where he needed to breathe and changing his dynamic when the sheet music called for him to do so. But even then, he still felt as if something was wrong, as if he wasn't with the group.

Mr. Vargas motioned for them to stop, the room falling silent once again. He bopped his head side to side, his eyes rolled up to look at the ceiling. "Just the altos and sopranos this time. Measure forty-eight." He counted them off, and at three, they launched into a wave of painful high notes and loud dynamics.

Arthur leaned back in his chair and read over his music, it being the only thing he could do. He now had a steady headache, each screech and shriek making the pounding worse. It would be no use watching the givers of said headache, and he had already grown bored of looking around the room and studying his classmates.

He pulled a pencil out of his pocket, starting to scribble down solfege as fast as he could. He had quickly learned to keep one with him and available at all times, not knowing when he would have to mark or circle something. Arthur didn't have much time; the girls were rapidly approaching their final notes, so he would only be able to label two measures at best.

When they finished, the two girls' parts sat back, letting Mr. Vargas do his critiquing. He bit his bottom lip, nodding his head and tapping his fingers against the metal stand in front of him. "Good." He turned his attention to the other half of the room. "Bass and tenor, measure forty-eight to sixty-six."

As he counted off, Arthur wondered why he kept saying the measures over and over again, but didn't bother to question it aloud. He would probably be ignored, anyways, or told to shut up and start singing.

Arthur made sure to make his words clear as he sang, not missing out on any 'T' or 'K' and keeping his vowels tall and strong. It was tiring to pay attention to that and the notes and getting the words right all at once, but he managed. He was used to it after doing it for so many years, but even so, it still took a level of concentration from him. A high one, one that he didn't need for other tasks. Arthur only hoped it was the same with others.

When they finished, his section's final note mercifully low, Arthur turned his attention to Mr. Vargas. The man cringed, his nose wrinkling. He turned to Roderich, the two furiously whispering, Roderich jerking his head to Arthur's section. Mr. Vargas nodded, his hand gripping the top edge of his stand.

"Basses only. Everyone else, sit back. One- two- three." Arthur started off again, beginning to grow bored of their current song. Mr. Vargas was looking for something, it was obvious, the only question was what it was.

From the corner of his eye, he could see those from the other three sections watching. He could've sworn some were cringing, one even shaking her head. Arthur still kept reading his music, his shoulders stiff and tense under those stares.

The music cut off abruptly, and Arthur looked up in surprise. His whole section did, from what he could see.

What horrified Arthur the most was that Mr. Vargas was staring directly at him, an obnoxious smirk spreading across his face. Arthur wanted to wipe it off, but kept a cool and indifferent expression, not wanting to get into it with one of the school's more decent teachers. He was already in boiling hot water, there was no need to turn the notch even higher.

"Arthur Kirkland?"

He raised an eyebrow. Those next to him tried to scoot away as far as possible without being noticed. There were several quiet giggles in the room, coming from all sections. The entire atmosphere had a pitying mood hanging from it, and Arthur almost balked at the thought that it was directed towards him.

"Er- yessir?" he could feel his cheeks warming up, and he mentally cursed, So much for acting like he didn't care.

The choir seemed to lean in as they waited for Mr. Vargas' verdict. With the way they were treating this, a drumroll would've been an appropriate accessory to go along with it. The fools were acting as if Arthur was about to be sentenced to a horrible life in prison, and he found it amusing, yet, at the same time, unnerving.

He glared at those around him, being as discreet as he could. Some looked away and others, to his growing irritation, glared back.

If he had to admit it, with the way Mr. Vargas was staring at him, eyes narrowed, Arthur had become slightly curious. He had noticed something was off, but just couldn't put his finger on what. Arthur didn't know if Mr/ Vargas was being silent to build up suspense, as he often did, or if he legitamently didn't know what to say. It made Arthur feel uneasy, no matter if it was the former or the latter.

When Mr. Vargas spoke, breaking the silence that permeated throughout the classroom, he did so in a low, accusing voice. "You were flat." He put extra emphasis on the last word, and Arthur would be lying if he said that he didn't feel a tinge of fear trickle down his spine.

He swallowed, his shoulders tensing and legs crossing. As he spoke, Arthur willed his voice to stay firm and steady, but he couldn't help the small shake and stutter in it. Arthur could only hope that no one else noticed. "I'm flat, sir?"

Mr. Vargas kept his deadpan expression. The giggling and whispering had stopped, thankfully, but it was now so quiet in the room that one could hear a pin drop. It didn't help that he had the full attention of his classmates- or clubmates, whatever the were.

Then, once the suspense and tension reached its peak, a slow, twangy voice destroyed it all, just in the typical fashion of its owner. "You were so flat, a piece of paper would've been jealous."

Mr. Vargas' serious expression cracked as the choir burst out into chortles and cackles. Arthur turned to Alfred, glaring at him, but it wasn't as its normal strength. It was his stupidity that had gotten him out of that mess, so he had to be somewhat grateful for it.

Leaning against the front wall of the classroom, his arm wrapped around his torso, Mr. Vargas was in a full out howl. His face was a cherry red, his laugh lines and crows feet prominent as he smiled. "Al- Alfred! You know I can't-" He burst out into another round of laughter, slamming his hand against the concrete wall.

Mr. Vargas seemed to set the choir off, the noise growing louder. He wouldn't be surprised if everything could be heard from the hallway. Arthur was probably the only person in the room who wasn't laughing his ass off. He didn't get why everyone thought Alfred's attempt at a joke was humorous, nor was Mr. Vargas' laughing. He blamed it on the fact that he was in America, and that they were all strange here, but that did little to ease his bewilderment.

"Goddamnit, get on with it, Old Man!" The voice was loud and deep, and Arthur quickly figured out that it belonged to someone from his section. He turned around, as did a lot of other people in the room, to see who it was.

There, seated in the back row- which must've been a pain, considering his short height, sat the boy in question. With curly brown hair and hazel eyes, he looked an almost carbon-copy to Mr. Vargas. If, of course, the latter was younger. Pissed off seemed to be the default expression for him, his brow furrowed and mouth etched into a frown.

Arthur huffed through his nose, smirking. He might like this guy.

Mr. Vargas shook his head, tsking. "Ok, ok." He turned his attention to his stand, flipping back and forth between two pages, addressing the choir as he did so. "Y'all'll have to excuse my grandson, Lovino-" he nodded to him, "- he's a hot-headed one. Total opposite of his brother, Feliciano, who sits in the tenor section." Mr. Vargas nodded to his other grandson, who smiled upon being acknowledged.

Lovino scowled as his brother was mentioned, crossing his arms and legs. Perhaps it was a sibling rivalry, Arthur thought with some nostalgia. He had had plenty of those in his lifetime, what with five brothers and his parents having a tendency to pick favorites. But as he not-so-subtly stared at Lovino, whose focus had not broken from his brother, he couldn't help but think there was something more to it. Something driven by hatred and jealously rather than rowdy competition.

"Arthur Kirkland, turn to measure fifty-three, everyone else, lean back and relax."

A loud thump sounded as no more than thirty backs hit their chairs, some later than others. Arthur's back, however, stayed ramrod straight. He let his shoulders slump down, raising his chin high and uncrossing his legs. Arthur bit his bottom lip.

Roderich pressed a key on the piano, the sound vibrating through the room. It was high, too high for Arthur's range. He didn't understand why the tenors didn't do it, and the basses be given a different- lower being preferred- note, but composers were assholes like that. It was what it was, but that didn't mean that he would willingly accept it.

"Play it again for me." Roderich did as he was told, and Arthur cringed at the note, but Mr. Vargas seemed indifferent to it. Even if he had one of the deepest singing voices Arthur had ever heard.

Mr. Vargas snapped three times, letting a short space of time in between each one. "Aaah~" he sang the note, exactly on the pitch. Arthur watched with a raised eyebrow, rolling his eyes and tsking when he was waved to join in.

He took a deep breath, making sure to use his diaphragm and not lift his shoulders. That had been an issue in the past, according to his old director, but he just figured that the old woman needed something to yell at him about. Maybe in those last few years, she had gone senile and simply couldn't remember that he had stopped doing what she accused him of. Arthur would never know.

Arthur let out his breath, his throat vibrating as he sang. It still seemed a bit too low, however, and he winced.

Mr. Vargas must've thought the same, as he put more breath into his own voice, making it louder, and waving his hand in an indication for Arthur to go higher. He had yet to take a breath, and Arthur was amazed that his face hadn't started to turn blue.

Arthur paused, gasping for air. It had always been a problem for him, controlling how much air went out. He breathed until his throat was tight ad his lungs couldn't hold anymore to continue.

As he started up again, still too low, he could hear the giggles and snorts of the idiots around him. His cheeks and the tips of his ears burned, and he couldn't help but want to get up and leave, want to curl up in a cave in the middle of nowhere and never come out.

Or, at least, slap every single person in this stupid choir until their teeth crack out. He clenched his fingers around the edge of his binder, the ridged plastic digging into the lines. the idea seemed to become more and more tempting as the giggles grew louder and the snorts more obnoxious.

Mr. Vargas stopped singing, and Arthur, taking the cue, did the same. He stumbled back against the piano, resting his hands on his knees, his shoulders shaking. Bopping his foot up and down, Arthur pursed his lips, watching with unbridled disgust and anger as Mr. Vargas humiliated him even further.

The man let out a whine as he laughed breathlessly, clapping his hands to go along with each one. Arthur thought he looked like a seal. "Oh my god- oh my god. Arthur." He shook his head, covering his heads with his hand. The way he smiled, it was as if he were joking with a dear friend, or a member of his family, maybe. Arthur didn't feel the same way. "Arthur, do we need to knee ya?" Is that what we need to do for you to get the pitch?"

Arthur scowled at him, turning it into a sneer when he didn't feel that it was enough. Mr. Vargas gave him an amused smirk as a response, tipping his head back and laughing after Arthur finished speaking. "I don't think that to be necessary, sir."

Mr. Vargas nodded, keeping his irritating expression. "If ya don't think it's necessary, then you're gonna sing the note at the correct pitch, right?" As his sentence went on and on, Arthur wanted nothing more than to slap that smirk off his face. Off of everyone's faces.

Instead of letting his anger out, like he oh-so-desperately wanted to do, Arthur cocked his head to the side, giving a venom-filled smile complete with honeyed words. "I'll try. In the meantime, could we practice again? I apologize, I'll start trying harder."

How the man didn't realize that Arthur was three bad sentences away from going off on him was truly the mystery of the century. He gritted his teeth and clenched and unclenched his fingers. Arthur could feel a rage building up, one that morphed from his mortification. Arthur pushed it down, not unlike in a way he often found himself doing these days, but it barely helped.

"Okay, then. Roderich, hit the key." Arthur had no idea how he could despise a musical note as much as he did, but he managed. From the sighs and groans of those around him, he knew that they felt the same way. They were probably hating him as well, Arthur thought with a smirk. It would just be adding more to the never-ending list.

He took a deep breath, not stopping until his chest hurt. Arthur kept it in as best he could, straightening his shoulders and uncrossing his legs. Nodding to Mr. Vargas, and Roderich, for that matter, Arthur waited for the scale to play, the note he was having trouble with being high do.

After each note was played, he hummed it before singing, his voice shaking. He made sure that his singing matched the humming, going slow after each one. The room was already deep, boiling water, with all the anger that everyone was feeling making more and more bubbles rise to the surface. Arthur was sure that his own anger set the flames.

His throat was closing up, pain spiking like tiny needles the higher he went. Arthur looked to Mr. Vargas, hoping that the man would nod and say that he was good to go. Instead, to his ever-growing chagrin, he shook his head, waving for him to go higher.

Cursing inwardly, he stopped, taking a breath. When he was ready, Arthur started up again, increasing his pitch. His throat felt like it was on fire, his head pounded like it was being hit by a hammer over and over and over again.

Mr. Vargas smiled, nodding his head. Roderich let out a sigh of relief, rolling his head back, along with a few others in the room.

Taking that as a cue, Arthur stopped, gasping for breath. He sat back with a groan, snapping his binder shut and laying it flat on his lap. Lifting a hand to his throat, Arthur rolled his neck, closing his eyes.

He had done it. Finally.

Mr. Vargas walked down the aisle, turning off on his row. The kid seat next to Arthur- he was told his name but hadn't bothered to remember it- scooted back and to the side to let him through. Arthur pursed his lips as Mr. Vargas patted his back, moving his hand up and shaking his shoulder. Arthur could feel his brain rattle, which did nothing but make his headache worse.

"You did good, kid." Arthur figured that the smile he gave him was supposed to be supportive and easy-going, but he felt it anything but. "And, I know you might be a little angry-"

"A little, sir?" A little? He was not pissed, as they said here, or angry. Arthur was furious. Multiple violent situations were swimming around in his mind, like soup in a pan, growing worse and worse as time went on.

He wouldn't act on them, though. He wouldn't dare. Arthur wasn't stupid. His record was horrible, littered with fights and arguments with teachers and other stuff that he didn't care about. Assaulting a teacher would get him in deeper rubbish than he was now, and get him a one-way ticket to the Kirkland Disciplinary Circus. Not to mention an alternative school.

Mr. Vargas raised an eyebrow, cocking his head to the side. Realization seemed to dawn on him after about a minute, and he rose his hands in surrender. "Ok, ok. Maybe you're really angry- embarrassed, too. But hey, look at the bright side-" he smiled as Arthur looked at him with suspicion, "-ya did it! The help may not've been the most ideal, sure, but ya still managed to hit the note! You should be proud about that."

Arthur snorted, shaking his head. Looking back at Mr. Vargas he gave him a small smile, letting a little sarcasm drip from his words as he spoke. "Oh, I assure you, sir, I am very proud of my... accomplishment." He slowly nodded at the end of his sentence, leaning forward and resting his forearms on his thighs.

With another smile and a hard pat on the shoulder, Mr. Vargas turned away and returned to the front of the room. Arthur watched with narrow eyes as he walked, picking up his binder and opening it with a creak. Who knew what song he would choose next. Maybe Arthur would be sharp this time, and be forced to fix it in front of everyone again.

Mr. Vargas steadied his stand, pulling his wooden stool up to sit. He flicked through his papers, studying the notes he scribbled down during practices. "Everyone." He straightened his back, the choir imitating. "Turn to Jingle Bells." He bit his bottom lip, shaking his shoulders as people groaned and cheered.

As the music started up, Arthur prepared to sing his least favorite Christmas song. It was overused, constantly played on the radio, and though they were playing a different, older arrangement, he still hated it.

Mr. Vargas lifted his hands, establishing the beat. Soprano. Then alto and tenor. After that, finally, the basses were motioned to begin, the deep note welcomed after that awful one minutes prior.

And with each high note, each screech and shriek from the Sopranos added to his headache, Arthur wanted nothing more than to scream his head off and kill every single person in that room.

* * *

The maths classroom was silent as Arthur scribbled on his scratch paper. This was his second page and it was quickly filling up.

They were currently taking a test, a pop quiz, Mr. Wang had called it. To "test what they had learned so far", he said. Arthur thought it was a test that had crawled its way from the cracks of Hell.

Sure, he was aware of his concepts. He had an idea of what he was supposed to do, but applying it to the actual problems... no. It was like telling someone how to ink a tattoo, but each one was different and something he'd never seen before. It was impractical. Really.

With a quick look up and around, Arthur noticed that he was the only one left taking the test. He swore, making sure it was quiet enough that Mr. Wang wouldn't hear it. It still earned him a couple looks.

Arthur often prided himself in his grades. He had had straight As since year four, though with his progress and ability in maths, he often questioned it. His parents did, as well. Hell, once, they had even flat-out asked him if he was cheating. _That_ had definitely helped his secondary school self-esteem.

Being somewhat content with his answer on his scratch paper, Arthur transferred it to the regular test paper. He made sure to write each number and letter carefully, a habit born from many teachers having difficulties reading his handwriting.

After he finished that, with one final glance to that particular problem, he turned to the next one. And cringed.

He reread the problem, again and again and again. It was harder than the other ones. Arthur had no idea where to even start.

Deciding to half-ass it just to get it done, he reached for his scratch paper, looking it up and down and flipping it over. He tsked. It was full. Not a single space left.

turning around in his chair, he unzipped his backpack, pulling out a green plastic folder. He had reserved it specifically for blank, lined paper- college ruled, it had much more room than wide ruled- and it had been handy so far. Especially in maths and science.

As he started scribbling, his pencil scratching against the paper in a pleasing manner, he could hear Mr. Wang clear his throat from his desk. "Has everyone finished?" He was currently grading papers, or so he had claimed at the beginning of the period, and the stacks were quickly dwindling.

Several heads perked up and looked around. Including Alfred's. There was some shaking, some "no"s, and Arthur new with a bitter cringe that he had to do it. Even if he didn't want to.

He raised his hand, frowning when he noticed an embarrassing shake. Multiple heads turned to him, and Arthur could feel a warmth start to spread across his cheeks. "Er- I'm just about finished, sir."

Lies. He wasn't even halfway through. Why Mr. Wang insisted that it'd be multiple pages, he had no idea, but it wasn't helping him at all.

Arthur snarled at those who sighed, groaned, and glared at him. He felt it was necessary. The fools still had time. They could check over their answers, and be happy that they actually understood this rubbish, or draw or read a damn book. They weren't the ones stressing out about it all, so they shouldn't be saying- or breathing in a certain way, really- anything.

Mr. Wang nodded, looking a bit annoyed. "That's fine. You've got ten minutes."

Groaning, Arthur rolled his head back, setting his hand on his neck. He looked to the side, only to find Alfred staring at him, his brow lowered and mouth slightly gaped in confusion. Arthur sneered at him, which conveniently- as if often did, thankfully- caused him to turn away.

He turned back to his paper, practically staring a hole in it. Scribble, scribble. Scratch, scratch. Furiously erasing over and over again. Arthur gave up. Another question down.

Arthur moved to the next one. He scowled, the question being even harder than the one before. Glancing up at the clock, his scowl deepened, his mood worsening as the second hand ticked and ticked. He was running out of time.

But then again, it wasn't s if the eight minutes he had left would do anything. They only had a day to do this test, and he knew he wouldn't finish anyways, or get a single question correct, So the question that he really needed to be focusing on was: why was he even bothering? He was going to fail, anyways.

Arthur picked up his calculator, clearing the previous numbers from the screen. He typed in the numbers for his current problem, pressing symbols and deleting it when he found the results unsatisfying. Leaning back in his chair, he sighed, carding his fingers through his hair.

Arthur tossed his calculator onto his desk, the racket drawing many heads to his direction. Including Mr. Wang's and Alfred's, both showing various levels of shock on their faces. Mr. Wang's more than Alfred's.

He snorted. It seems the golden boy had gotten used to his antics. Great.

Angry and a tiny bit ashamed- though he would never admit it to anyone- he threw down his pencil, too. Arthur decided that he would sit and twiddle his thumbs until the bell rang, waiting until he could leave this damn test behind and go to lunch with Vlad. Speaking of which...

Lifting his feet up on his toes, Arthur twisted around to look at his friend. Vlad was already starting at him, his brow furrowed and head cocked to the side in the feline way Arthur had come to associate him with.

Leaning against his desk, looking the epitome of a concerned friend, Vlad made his words clear as glass as he silently mouthed, "Are you okay?"

Taking a deep breath through his nose, Arthur felt almost touched. He had had very few relationships with people who were... worried about his "emotional outbursts", as his family called them, and it was nice to know that Vlad was one of them. If he was here, Arthur was sure that Lukas would be the same way.

Realizing that he hadn't yet given a reply, Arthur shook his head, mouthing hack that he would tell him at lunch. That seemed to please Vlad, as he leaned to the side to grab a book from his backpack, giving his attention fully to it.

Arthur turned to face the front of the room, letting his feet lay flat against the tile floor, He tapped his fingers against the table, examining the scratches on the wooden veneer. wincing as his fingernails sent a spike of pain down his fingertips, he stopped, lifting his fingers. He tsked at the white parts, which had grown long. He would have to cut those when he returned to his house.

The bell rang with a shriek, Arthur wincing, Headaches had become more often recently, some more painful than others, but he didn't think anything of it. He had had his fair share of them over the years, and was at a point where he could ignore the minor ones. That bell never failed to make them worse, however.

Arthur stood from his seat, grabbing his calculator and pencil and shoving them in one of the pockets in his backpack. He slung it over his shoulder, waiting for Vlad to walk up to him.

"Mr. Jones and Mr. Kirkland, stay behind, please."

As Vlad stepped up to him, he gave Arthur a confused look. Arthur pursed his lips, shrugging his shoulders. The shrug was weighed down, however, from the brick that was his backpack. "I'll see you at lunch."

Vlad nodded with a smile, patting Arthur softly on his back. "We'll wait for ya. I think Lukas brought some PB and J, so I hope ya like grape jam."

"I like strawberry better."

Vlad laughed, beginning to move away, and Arthur watched him turn in his test and walk out the door. He waited until he, Alfred, and Mr. Wang were the only ones left in the room before heading to the latter's desk.

Alfred walked in the adjacent aisle, giving him a weird look. "Dude, strawberry jam? Really?"

Rolling his eyes, Arthur huffed. Of course, the idiot was trying to start something. Of course. He didn't say anything in return, letting Alfred interpret the silence as he would. They didn't need to get into an argument in front of a teacher again.

Arthur shoved his hands into his pockets, studying Mr. Wang's desk. It looked as if it were one stressful day from being thrown into disorganization. Papers were stacked on the edges, some marked with red ink, others sitting ungraded. A set of keys clinked against a cup of coffee, each on reflecting off the plastic. Various pens lay scattered, one without a top.

Mr. Vargas picked up his mug and took a sip, cringing before setting it back down. Cold, most likely.

"Mr. Kirkland?" Mr. Wang leaned forward on his desk, bunching his fingers together. He looked exactly like his therapist several years ago, with that questioning look mixed in with pure disappointment. Arthur remembered that expression, along with his mother's, just after-

Arthur shook his head, so light that the two next to and in front of him wouldn't think it anything but moving his hair out of the way. He didn't need that memory budding its ugly head out now.

"Yes, sir?" Arthur racked through his mind, trying to figure out what he did. No arguments, save for that tiny incident when he first met Alfred, and no other behavior... issues. He was good to go, as far as he was concerned.

Unless Alfred had made something up. Or maybe it was Kiu, trying to get revenge for whatever he thought Arthur did.

Mr. Wang reached for one of the inked paper stacks, taking off the one on the very top. He held it for both Arthur and Alfred to see, the former wincing and the latter whistling.

It had his name on it, Arthur easily recognizing his own neat handwriting. Red ink covered the entire paper, each of his answers crossed out. A comment was written in boxed writing, calling for him to try harder, along with a big fat zero. Not a single one correct.

From the corner of his eye, he could see Alfred staring at him. His eyes were wide, his brow raised and lips pursed. He looked like Arthur had just told him that he won the lottery, or was being drafted into major league baseball, maybe, since he was into rubbish like that.

"Do you think you can explain this?" He waved the paper in the air, his lips pursed into a fine line.

Arthur stared at it. At the zero taking up space in the corner. At the comment scribbled across the top. At the lines going through each and every one of the answers he spent hours going through and checking. Hours.

He had no idea how to answer. What to say. But he was going to try, if only to guard his pride from further wrecking. It had already faced enough this week. "It looks to be one of my homework assignments, sir, One that I scored pretty badly on."

"Mr. Kirkland, you missed every single question on this assignment. Every single one."

Arthur lifted his eyebrows. Mr. Wang must've been out of sugar packets to coat it with. Surely he could've scrambled up some, if only to pad his ego from the fall it just took.

Arthur looked to the side, weighing Alfred's reaction. He had his hands clasped behind his back, finding the hundreds of black spots dotting the ceiling much more interesting than the current conversation. He stepped around, back and forth, occasionally rolling back on his heels. Alfred looked like he wanted to be anywhere but here. And quick. Good.

"Why are you pointing this out to me, sir?" And more importantly, why in front of Alfred?

Mr. Wang kept his expression, not even changing it a single bit. Ever the cold professional. "Arthur. You're an AP student. You chose this class, you knew what the workload would be, and yet you- "

"To be fair, sir, I didn't choose this class. My mother did." Alfred looked surprised about that, too, but Arthur ignored him.

Mr. Wang shook his head, setting the paper down on top of his laptop. He drummed his fingers against his desk, watching him and covering his mouth with his free hand. It was a bit unnerving, but Arthur made sure it didn't show.

"Even if you didn't choose this class, you decided to stay in it, which means that you took on the workload, whether you accept it or not." Mr. Wang, in a burst of tidiness, began to move the stacks of paper around and into the drawers of his desk. "Which brings me to this. If you don't start getting your grades in order, I'll be forced to remove you from this class and place you in a lower one."

Arthur nodded, feeling a bit embarrassed, and it showed, if the burning in his cheeks and the tips of his ears said anything. He was just about to open his mouth and speak- saying what, he had no idea- when Alfred, for once thankfully, cut him off.

"Mr. Wang, where exactly do I come into this?" He looked nervous. Uncomfortable. As if he couldn't stand being in the same room as Arthur for more than an hour, and being in maths with him pushed his limit far enough. Being so close to him now must be unbearable.

Poor Alfred, being forced to stand next to the Big Bad Arthur, having to see how much he sucks at maths. It must be extremely traumatizing, to be exposed to such a thing. How terrible.

Alfred must've seen Arthur staring at him, as he turned in his direction, sticking his tongue out. Arthur rolled his eyes.

Mr. Wang watched their exchange, his expression turning into something unreadable. He grabbed a stack of his papers, tapping them against the desk into alignment and murmuring, "I see what Romulus was talking about."

Arthur perked up at that. So Mr. Vargas had been talking about him- or he and Alfred, maybe. It wasn't that much of a secret that teachers talked about certain students to each other- grades, social lives, behavior. The fact that Mr. Vargas had told Mr. Wang something- most likely the confrontation that had occurred in madrigal choir a few weeks ago- didn't really surprise him. Teachers, in general, didn't really surprise him anymore.

The cold professionalism was back. Mr. Wang rolled his shoulders, leaning back against his chair. Arthur could've sworn a flash of un-comfort went through his eyes. "Alfred, you're one of the highest performing students in my class." Arthur couldn't help but raise his eyebrows at that. Alfred? A top performer in maths? That seemed more unlikely than Arthur getting a decent grade in the very same subject. "And Arthur is the lowest performer in this class. There's not a doubt in that."

His cheeks burned even hotter, and Arthur looked away. he tapped his foot against the tile and crossed his arms, suddenly not willing to say anything. Let Alfred finish the damn conversation.

"Uh- uh, sir." Arthur could hear the shake in his voice, and figured that he realized what Mr. Wang wanted him to do. Arthur himself had an idea, one that he didn't particularly like, but he wasn't in the mood for talking- especially confirming said idea. "I think I know where you're heading with this, and I- uh-"

"Alfred, I want you to tutor Arthur after school."

His voice sounded so firm, so definite and sure of himself, that Arthur couldn't help but argue. "No. Absolutely not."

Alfred turned to him, his eyes wide and a small smile on his face. He nodded his head in a small thank you. Arthur ignored him.

Mr. Wang raised his eyebrows. He must've not expected Arthur to reject his request, if you could even call it that. It was good to know that Alfred felt the same as he did about the situation, even if he was too worried about his "reputation" to say so.

"Mr. Kirkland, if you want to stay in this class, then this isn't a choice. Your grades desperately need to improve."

"But- uh, sir." Alfred took a step closer to the desk, readjusting the strap to his backpack. "Arthur and I- we've got Madrigal choir practices on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays now, and it'll get super duper busy once the season starts up. And it's not like we really get along too well and I've got a-"

Mr. Wang shook his head. He quickly glanced at his watch, scowling at the time. "Look, I don't want- I can't take up your lunch period. I know you two have very, very busy schedules, but all I'm asking is two afternoons a week. Until we get Arthur to at least a high B. Y'all're off on Tuesdays and Thursdays, yes? After the final bell, just go to the library and work together on homework til around three-thirty or four. And as for not getting along, you two can work it out, I know you can."

Arthur was glaring a hole in the side of Mr. Wang's head, furious at the torture he was trying to subject him to. It was bad enough being forced to do maths for homework, but with Alfred, no less? He was also grounded, and didn't wish for a time extension, and while he could tell his mother that he needed it- because really, he did- it just wasn't practical. It would just get him that disappointed look again, and maybe some yelling, which he certainly didn't need in his life at the moment.

Arthur took in good faith that Alfred was against this as well, and would flat out deny helping him. He didn't need it. Arthur could just devote a bit more time to studying his notes than to reading, it was as simple as that. And though he didn't to give up such a precious hobby of his, he was willing.

Taking his silence as a rejection, Arthur gave no one, in particular, a haughty smirk. It wasn't until Alfred spoke about a minute later that his smile crashed and burned. "What do I get?"

Mr. Wang looked taken back, Arthur the same, and he shook his head. "I'm sorry, what?"

"What do I get, y'know, for tutorin' Arthur?"

He could not believe it. The fool was actually considering it. And if his tone of voice and his expression said anything, he was close to agreeing. Arthur could truly, truly not believe that the idiot was willing to give up his free time for the sole purpose of destroying Arthur's.

Arthur turned to him, cocking his head to the side. Staring. Alfred ignored him, his only acknowledgment being a quick glance, keeping his focus on Mr. Wang.

Mr. Wang cleared his throat, rolling his chair back. Pulling a drawer open, he lifted a heavy grade book onto his desk, not before moving his laptop away and to the side. He licked his thumb, tabbing through the pages as he spoke. "Well, I can't really offer too much. Being accused of favoritism is a bi- a pain to death with, and I really wouldn't want that can of rumor going around the break room. And I certainly can't pay you. But-" he added when Alfred's face fell, "-I can give you a few points of extra credit per week- and I mean per week- and write you an outstanding recommendation letter for college. You do plan on applying this year, yes?"

Alfred nodded, his face lighting up. Arthur inwardly cursed, knowing that Mr. Wang had reeled him in tight and strong.

Personally, Arthur had no idea where he was going to go, but he had to figure it out fast. Application season was just about to start up, and he sure as hell wasn't staying with his parents another year. He could've sworn there was a university- and a large one, at that- nestled deep in the jungle that was the downtown area of the city, so he could always try that. The only problem was that he was definitely not going to get any scholarships, what with his record, but he could figure it out. He always did.

"Ok. Yeah, I'll do it." Alfred turned to Arthur, excitement and hope in his eyes. "It all depends on whether Arthur wants to or not."

Mr. Wang turned his attention to Arthur as well, the two expectant for a positive answer. It felt good to have this much power, even if it was in horrible circumstances. Even with such a decision.

Arthur didn't want to do it. He definitely didn't want it. Not at all.

But these were his grades at stake. Grades that he had worked and slaved over for years and years and years. Arthur knew he couldn't just throw all that time away for something as petty as his anger and embarrassment. No matter how much he wanted to see the look on Mr. Wang's face when he denied his request. He couldn't.

Arthur bopped his head side to side, weighing the pros and cons. He would have to talk to Alfred, see him and have conversations with him. Twice a week. He would have to deal with and accept the fact that Alfred knew more than him in a subject, that he was better at it.

But then again, he could get away from Peter, from the house he lived in. Arthur would be able to keep up with his straight As, if it all worked out like Mr. Wang hoped it would. He would be able to laugh in his parents' faces, show them that he succeeded when they expected him to fail, to crash and burn. And maybe, just maybe, it could give him a chance to work on his plan. His current main goal in his life.

Arthur sighed, knowing that it was truly too good to pass up. That the pros outweighed the cons by a landslide. "Fine. I'll do it."

Alfred smiled brightly, whispering, "Yes!", and pumping his fist. Mr. Wang smiled as well, though it was much smaller, and nodded his head.

"Fantastic. That's all I needed. You guys can go on to lunch. Turn in your tests to the black basket next to the door. " He pointed to the mentioned basket, before turning his attention to a stack of sticky notes, grabbing a pen. "Decide on whether or not you want to start Today or Thursday, and notify me later on your decision. Have a good day."

And just like that, it was done. Arthur made sure he was the first out the door, tossing his test haphazardly into the basket on his way out. He walked briskly, eager to spend what little minutes he had left with his friends to rant.

"Hey! Arthur!"

He didn't stop, waiting for Alfred to catch up to him as he walked. Too busy focusing on navigating his way through the maze that this school called hallways, Arthur didn't look at Alfred as he spoke. "What is it?"

Alfred didn't struggle to keep up, matching his stride step for step. "So~, do ya wanna start today this afternoon or-"

"Let's start Thursday. So you can savor what little freedom you have left."

Alfred looked taken back at that, most likely at Arthur's usage of "you" instead of "we", stumbling before regaining his balance. "Okay... that's fine. Wanna meet at the library or do ya wanna do it someplace else?"

Arthur had no idea why the fool was trying so hard, but it was quickly irritating him. "Yes. The library's fine. I'll meet you after the final bell. See you then."

"Yeah, okay! Seeya!"

And with that, Alfred was gone. Arthur watched as he ran off, his backpack bouncing up and down with each step. He had no idea what he had just gotten himself into, but he knew it was going to be eventful. Very, very eventful.

As he arrived at his lunch table, Arthur was pleased to find that Lukas had made a special peanut butter and jelly sandwich for him- one with strawberry jam instead of grape. Vlad and Lukas listened fervently as he ranted, nodding their heads and wincing at certain points. They were sympathetic with his woes, offering support when Arthur asked for it.

But what he failed to tell them- didn't find the need to, really- was the face that, after thinking about it. he was looking forward to this chance, just a tiny bit. Arthur had, thankfully, anticipated surprises like this when crafting his plan, and though Alfred tutoring him was completely unexpected, Arthur could tell himself with pride that his plan was being subjected to an earlier start date.

* * *

Ok, I'm just gonna be straight will y'all, this chapter is not proofread. I have spent my entire day transferring this from my notebook to my laptop (I wonder why I even bother doing that, but it's my editing process, I guess) and honestly, right now I want to slam my head against my dining room table over and over again. So if you find any typos or something like that, sorry about that, I'm hoping the long chapter (10k words! Woah!) will make up for it.

Someone has brought it to my attention that Kiku has been a bit too OOC. I apologize about that, and like I told them, Aph Japan is possibly one of my least favorite characters- I just find him kinda boring- and Cross Life is my first time writing him. I'll be fixing up his personality as best I can.

What did everyone think of Yao? Once again, this is my first time writing him. I looked Aph China up on the wiki, and it said that he was quite the business man, and the first thing that popped into my mind was, "Numbers and Professionalism". So that's how he ended up with that. If anyone has any tips, they would be greatly appreciated.

One more thing (I know this is kinda long), I'm a few years away from being a Senior, so I'm afraid to say that I'll have no clue what to do for the tutoring thing. I'm just gonna wing it and be vague as possible. If anyone would like to volunteer~ and help support their favorite (not really) fanfiction author, that would be great!

Thank you for reading Cross Life Chapter Eight, I'll see you on the sixteenth! Also, to my fellow Americans, please don't blow your hands off lighting fireworks this Tuesday. Have a wonderful morning, day, and evening!


	9. X's and O's

This is not proofread. Sorry 'bout that. Important announcement at the bottom

* * *

Arthur tapped his foot as he scanned through the Sea of Fools, looking for a particularly obnoxious one. Of course, Alfred would be late. It was just like him, and Arthur was annoyed with himself for thinking that he would bother to be on time.

Mr. Wang had given an ending time- and a vague one, at that- but he had failed to give a start time. Hell, Alfred would probably show up at fifteen minutes til four, only to check over Arthur's work and leave. He would still collect his extra credit that way, and it's not as if Mr. Wang would believe Arthur if he were to complain. Teachers like him never did, especially if said complaint was concerning a favorite student of theirs.

Arthur decided that he would give Alfred one more minute to arrive before he would leave maybe if he missed multiple sessions, time after time, then Arthur would be able to request a different tutor. That would surely be ideal.

And it wasn't as if Mr. Wang was lacking good students in his class. Earlier that week, when he had been assigned this god-awful torture, Mr. Wang had claimed that Alfred was one of the top performers in the class. One of them. Arthur could always trade him in for another, more cooperative and reliable tutor, and he could use the complaint as extra ammo for his cause.

Maybe he would even get someone who arrives on time.

Sighing, Arthur checked his watch, scowling when he discovered that another two minutes had passed. Two minutes that he could've spent walking home, swimming in his thoughts and solitude. "Speaking with the fairies", as his mother- that vile woman- called it.

Arthur could be mentally writing a story or fantasizing about winning an argument or violently killing his enemies, but no. He had to wait for Alfred F. Jones, who couldn't be bothered to show up to a tutoring session on time. It made Arthur's blood boil, made him want to just say, "Screw it," to everything and just walk away.

But then again, throwing down the towel wouldn't get him back up to an A.

And so Arthur stood there, waiting and waiting. He leaned against the wall to the library, watching and judging people, which, considering that he spent seven precious hours of his day with them, he figured he should be able to do. It was amusing, actually, being able to snort at their obnoxiously colored hair and their wrinkled clothing. He wondered if any of them even bothered to look in the mirror before leaving their houses.

Sure, he knew it wasn't the nicest thing, but it was something to pass the time, which seemed to go slower each time he checked his watch.

Eventually, the hallway cleared out, leaving Arthur alone. It was quiet, to the extent where you could hear a pin drop. Perfect conditions for reading.

Slinging his backpack over his shoulder and onto the tile floor, Arthur sat down, crisscrossing his legs. He cringed, thinking of all the dirt and dust that would be sticking to his pants. He would have to give himself a good pat down when he stood.

Unzipping his backpack, Arthur pulled out his current read, tabbing through the thick pages to where he'd last left off. Vlad had recommended it to him, which meant that it was riddled with vampires and other supernatural creatures, and while that would normally be a turn-off, he was hooked. The story was captivating, the plot unique, and the characters relatable. And though the romance was a bit cheesy, with dramatic love declarations and mush and gush, that was exactly how he liked it. In fiction, anyways.

Arthur reread the previous two paragraphs before moving on to his current one, refreshing his memory. He tapped his feet against the tile, his fingers tightening around the edges of his book and face leaning in as he sped through page after page.

Arthur paid no attention to his surroundings and didn't hear the footsteps as they approached, nor when they stopped. "Hey, Arthur! Sorry for keepin' ya waitin', we were afraid that ya would've left already." Arthur jumped as he was ripped out of his trance, squeaking in surprise. His finger slipped out from the crease, forcing him to scramble to save his spot. It would be a pain in the ass to find again.

After saving his reading experience from doom, Arthur looked up to see who could've begun a conversation so carelessly and haphazardly. He had to admit to himself, as he found Alfred- along with Kiku, damn him- standing in front of him, Arthur couldn't say he was surprised. Of course, it would be them.

Alfred took a step back, his eyes wide, raising his hands in surrender. "Woah... sorry 'bout that. Didn't think I would scare ya that badly."

Tsking, Arthur shook his head with disdain. So he knew that talking to Arthur would frighten him, but chose to go along with it anyway. The nerve of that boy.

With a groan, Arthur stood, pulling his backpack along with him. Making sure his bookmark was in its proper place, Arthur snapped his book shut, returning it to the pocket from whence it came. He flicked his wrist up, checking his watch, before looking up at Alfred. He scowled. "You're twenty minutes late."

Alfred winced, taking in a sharp breath. Kiku stayed silent, just staring at Arthur, and the latter couldn't help but wonder what he was thinking. "Eh~, sorry, man. As I was about halfway home- Kiku and I were gonna go over to my house and play video games or somethin' like that- I thought, 'Oh shit, I'm tutorin' Arthur today!' I had completely forgotten! I couldn't just leave ya standin' here, and it's not like I've got yer phone number or anythin', so here we are! Man, ya should've seen it, though. I made such a sharp turn into the school parkin' lot that Kiku went face-first into the window. It was hilarious."

Alfred lifted his hand to touch a slightly red part of Kiku's cheek, but the latter shied away from before Alfred could make contact. Alfred pouted, but for some strange reason, it didn't look genuine. Interesting. Arthur pocketed that little exchange, saving it for later.

Arthur nodded, forcing a lazy smile on his face as he did so. "That must've been a sight to see."

Alfred smiled, his teeth so white Arthur doubted that they were even real. Perhaps they were crowns.

The hallway was silent as Alfred's smile faded, the three waiting for someone to speak. After about a minute, Arthur decided he was done waiting, turning around and walking towards the glass double doors. "Let's try and find a nice table in the corner to sit at."

Alfred snorted as he and Kiku followed, a thump sounded each time his foot hit the carpet. "Why would ya wanna sit in the corner, we're probably gonna be the only ones in-" Arthur glared at him, swiftly cutting Alfred off. Kiku's eyes narrowed at that, his lips pursed into a fine line, but he stayed silent. Good. "Or, y'know, a corner table's fine, too. Perfect, actually."

Yanking open door, Arthur shivered as he stepped into the library. Though it was quickly growing towards the end of September, and many people were now trading in t-shirts for long sleeves and jackets, the school's librarian insisted that the air conditioner be kept on at full blast. while it had been much appreciated at the beginning of the year, when Arthur regularly melted onto the concrete sidewalk, now it was just plain mental.

"Brr! It's hella cold!"

Arthur stopped, turning around. Alfred skittered to a stop against the floor, just barely keeping from running into him. He ran his hands up and down his upper arms, grimacing. Arthur supposed he was regretting his sleeveless shirt and short shorts at that moment.

Giving Alfred a deadpan glare, ignoring Kiku when he took a step closer to the former, he raised an eyebrow. "Hella?"

Alfred stopped, cocking his head to the side and frowning. Arthur thought he looked cute, if only a little bit, but would largely deny it should anyone confront him about it. "Hella."

"Hella."

"Hella."

"What does that even mean?"

"Ya don't know?" Alfred crunched his eyebrows together.

"No, I don't."

Alfred looked shocked at that, his eyes wide. He took a step back, slowly shaking his head as if he couldn't believe what Arthur was saying. He looked almost comical, and Arthur fought to keep a small smirk from cracking on his face.

Arthur made a quick glance towards Kiku. He had yet to say anything, and probably wouldn't the entire tutoring session. Not that it bothered Arthur. He could certainly go without hearing the fool's voice.

Unfortunately, he still had to hear Alfred's.

"Do ya not have an Instagram?"

"Oh, I do." He hadn't had one for long, though. Before, he had never found it necessary, but Vlad thought it quite the opposite. They made him an account during lunch one day, making sure that he followed Vlad and Lukas. Arthur promised the latter that he would follow Mathias when he got to know him better.

"Then how have ya not seen it before! Literally, everyone says it!"

Arthur snorted at that. Ridiculous. "Not everyone. I don't say it. My friends don't say it. My family doesn't say it."

Pouting, Alfred crossed his arms. As he spoke, his voice sounded whiny. Childish. "I don't mean everyone~. It was just an exaggeration! Stop being so serious."

How Alfred managed to go from snarling days before to pouting like a toddler denied a nap would forever be a mystery. Maybe it was because he was with Kiku, and wanted to look good- not that he was at this current moment. Or perhaps Alfred seriously didn't want to lose those extra credit points and college recommendation. Either way, his behavior was odd, almost fake, and it made Arthur curious. If only a little bit.

Moving his hand onto Alfred's shoulder, Kiku pulled him down to his height. Alfred narrowed his eyes, blinking rapidly as Kiku whispered into his ear. He nodded his head, smiling, rubbing and patting the latter's shoulders. "Yeah, okay. I'll come get ya when we're done."

Kiku smiled, glancing at Arthur with a look of subtle distaste. As he walked away, into the maze of the library, Arthur watched him go. "He's quite the character."

Alfred sniffled, a funny look on his face. "Yeah. I guess."

Arthur raised an eyebrow. That was an interesting reaction. He almost wanted to ask what was wrong, but didn't, knowing full well that he wouldn't get the answer that he wanted. If anything, Alfred would tell him to mind his own business, complete with a one-finger salute.

Turning around, he continued his walk to the corner of the library. It was large, shelves and shelves arranged in rows and rows. Much bigger than the ones at his old schools, which Arthur found fantastic. Libraries were wonderful, peaceful places where he could do his two favorite things: read thick hardbacks and stay away from his basket-case family. The bigger, the better. And the fact that he had to spend an hour and a half with someone like Alfred in such a sacred place...

He would rather swallow his teeth.

They found an empty table that was far away from the air conditioner, Arthur thanking any powerful deity for it. He dropped his backpack onto the dark, dirty carpet, not caring what got on it. Alfred slid his own on the table, scooting it towards the edge.

Unzipping his very back pocket, Alfred pulled out a notebook, textbook, and a folder. He looked up at Arthur, his smile looking forced. "Okay~, where do ya wanna start?"

Sitting down in one of the chairs- plastic and uncomfortable, like all the ones in this school- Arthur took out his own supplies. He didn't know where to start, didn't even want to, but he would be damned if he was going to spend his precious free-time alone with Alfred doing nothing productive.

"Mr. Wang wants me to redo that homework assignment I failed." The man was merciful enough to offer him a second chance, even if that chance came with this.

Alfred winced, his nose and the skin around his eyes scrunching up. "Oh, yeah. Ya did fail that." Narrowing his eyes, he cocked his head to the side, lightly clicking his tongue. "How did ya manage to do that, by the way? To get every single question wrong? I got a hundred percent on that test."

Alfred must've thought that to be an innocent question, simple small talk, because he couldn't possibly be that cruel. To rub Arthur's failure in his face while showing off his own success. Or maybe he was. Maybe he's been aching to mock him since Tuesday morning, or last Friday at the café, or maybe since their confrontation in the parking lot. Perhaps it was Kiku who had put him up to this, as revenge for the scuffle they had on their first meeting. It would just be like that snake to do so.

Gritting his teeth, Arthur clenched his fists. He smiled as best he could, not bothering to hide the venom that dripped from each word as he spoke. "Well, Alfred. Not everyone can have a magical calculator and a protractor swimming around in their thick skulls."

The confusion on his face was infuriating. "I don't have-" He paused, his eyes widening. Leaning back in his chair, Alfred raised his hands in surrender, giving Arthur a shaky smile. "Hey, hey. Sorry 'bout that. I didn't mean it that way."

Yes, he didn't mean it that way. Of course, he didn't. Arthur pulled out his test, scowling at that awful red ink. It stood out so much against the white of the paper, like blood splashed on snow. "Sure, you definitely didn't mean it."

"Yeah, I didn't." Alfred nodded, smiling, obviously not catching the sarcasm that lined Arthur's words. it was an American thing, he had noticed this past couple of months. It made for an amusing game, to see how far he could get without them noticing that he was mocking them.

He usually got pretty far.

Scooting his chair to the side to touch the edge of the table, Arthur flipped the paper horizontally, so that they could both see it. Grabbing two mechanical pencils, he tossed one to Alfred, who caught it with one hand. Alfred looked up, surprised, before breaking into a beaming smile. "Hey! That was a nice throw! Kudos to ya."

Arthur bit his bottom lip, slightly cocking his head to the side. Either Alfred was trying desperately to get in his good graces, to make up for something, or he was genuinely like this. When he wasn't pissed off or being a hair-pulling level of irritating, of course.

He narrowed his eyes, looking Alfred up and down. At his superhero t-shirt, his tanned skin, his glasses- they were new, bright blue plastic instead of the plain wire ones, hair that still reminded Arthur of caramel sweets. His smile, his laugh, the way his skin crinkled as he did both, the dimples that would show. How fake and tired he looked.

It was so obvious, to the point where Arthur couldn't figure out how he didn't notice it before. He knew he couldn't say anything, couldn't ask, unless he wanted to explain. To throw random, half-assed accusations that stemmed from half-assed theories made on the spot. That would only lead to further disaster.

Alfred looked up at him, his eyes wide. In a bout of impulse, Arthur looked away, clicking lead into his pencil. He could feel Alfred staring at him, and spoke without even a simple glance in his direction. "Is there something wrong?"

There was a sharp intake of breath, and Alfred set his hand on the table. From the corner of his eye, Arthur could see Alfred shake his head, his hair going into disarray. "Uh... it's nothin', don't worry 'bout it. Ya wanna start?"

As Arthur nodded, Alfred flipped his pencil between his fingers, letting the grip rest on the bump on his index finger. "Let's get started, eh? Um... uh, how 'bout ya show me yer process for each question and we can see where ya went wrong."

Arthur nodded, staring at the paper. As they worked, Alfred finding every single mistake in every single one of Arthur's problems, the gap between their abilities grew even more apparent. The situation with Mr. Vargas earlier this week was nothing compared to Alfred having to explain five times how he got the answer for one problem.

They were barely a quarter way through the paper when Alfred began to grow irritated. His voice was slower, the twang in his accent thicker. Alfred kept smiling though, kept on laughing at his jokes and nodding his head each time Arthur asked him to explain again.

Arthur knew that his bottom lip would be raw by the time they were finished. He had reverted back to his old habit, which, now that he thought about it, never really went away. His hair was smooth and without a single tangle from carding through it, and the thought of how greasy it would be by this evening bothered him.

Sighing, Alfred slammed his pencil against the table. If it cracked, Arthur told himself that he was going to kill him.

"God... why don't ya get this? Even a freshman could learn how to do it, with how much I'm tellin' ya."

Arthur leaned back in his chair, narrowing his eyes. "Excuse me?"

Alfred sighed, shaking his head. He sat up, rolling his neck back along with his shoulders. Looking up with a particularly pitiful gleam in his eye, he put a hand to his forehead. "I'm- it's just-" He paused, deflating. "I'm sorry."

"Sure you are."

"I am. But this- I just-"

Arthur groaned. Couldn't the idiot just get it out? He crossed his arms, his mood going sour as he watched Alfred try to "save" his ego. He found it a little insulting, actually, that Alfred couldn't be straight and just say that he was awful.

He raised an eyebrow. "If I need to go to Mr. Wang and see if I can get someone else to tutor me-"

"No! Don't, that ain't necessary!"

He looked shocked, fearful, his eyes wide and panicked, his jaw tight and tense. Either the boy really, really wanted that college recommendation, or something else was afoot.

Arthur desperately hoped it was the former. He didn't want to deal with Alfred's angsty drama. Not now, nor in the future.

Which brought Arthur to a mistake of Alfred's that he had just noticed. One that he had to fix at that very second. He cleared his throat before he spoke. "That isn't." Alfred furrowed his brow, cocking his head to the side, waiting for Arthur to clarify. "That isn't necessary. 'Ain't' isn't a word."

Alfred scoffed, rolling his eyes. "It is, too. They've got it in the Oxford Dictionary."

Arthur deadpanned. "I sincerely doubt that."

"Welp. It's true. Google it, why don'tcha?"

"I don't think I will. Rather, I suggest you go back to year two and learn proper grammar-"

"Year two? What in the hell is that?"

Arthur snorted. "Obviously, you can't-"

"Ah, Kiku, you're still here."

Arthur stopped, looking in the direction the voice came from. From the corner of his eye, he could see Alfred tense, muttering something under his breath.

Kiku was sitting at a table adjacent to them, a stack of think books next to him. Arthur hadn't noticed Kiku was there, most likely because he was too busy dealing with his fool of a boyfriend.

As he thought about it, he could see how Alfred and Kiku were such a good couple, as much as he didn't want to admit it. Both were general pains in his ass, hell-bent on making his life as hard as possible. They made him want to pull his hair out, bit by bit, and seemed to make it a hobby to do so.

Standing in front of Kiku, his brown hair was messy, as if he had just woken up and rolled out of bed. He was tall, his tight white t-shirt going barely past his hips and his olive green cargo shorts ending just above his knee. Whoever he was, Kiku was happy- no, elated to see him.

Closing his current book, Kiku set it to the side, a small, warm smile spreading across his face. "Heracles! How are you?" He leaned against the table, his hands folded on top of the veneer.

"Fine, you?" He pulled out the chair across from Kiku, slumping as he slid into it. Heracles had no backpack with him, and Arthur hoped- for the former's sake- that he hadn't been stupid enough to leave it in his locker for the evening. Even Alfred was smart enough to take his home with him every night.

Kiku nodded, offering the same response his friend had. He picked up his stack of books, moving them away to the side, clearing up the space between the two of them. "Do you have time to talk? I'm just waiting for Alfred to finish up what he's doing."

Arthur couldn't help but snort at his subtle diss, biting his bottom lip and ignoring Alfred as he gave him an odd look. He looked confused, which was highly amusing, considering that his boyfriend was the subject.

Heracles soured at the mention of Alfred's name, but Kiku didn't seem to notice. He smiled, and when he spoke, his voice was lazy. Lethargic. "Actually, I was just about to ask you the same thing."

Kiku laughed. Arthur sat back, rapidly blinking. It was the first time he had heard it, and while it was quiet and breathy, it didn't seem to fit him.

Though, if Arthur was being real with himself, it was probably just that he didn't want such an unpleasant person as Kiku to be happy.

Hearing Alfred sigh, Arthur turned back around in his chair, his attention away from Kiku. Cocking his head to the side, he let his curiosity get the best of him. "Heracles?"

Alfred huffed, carding his fingers through his hair. Arthur couldn't tell if it was out of frustration, jealousy, or both. "Heracles Karpusi. He's Kiku's best friend. Well, besides me, of course." He added the last part quickly, his words too fast to be anything casual. Jealousy it was, then.

"And does that bother you, him being so close to your boyfriend?" He rested his cheek against the palm of his hand, raising his eyebrows. Arthur knew he was being nosy, but didn't really care. There was good gossip on the line, gossip that would do great at the lunch table.

Alfred sneered, lightly shaking his head. "What're ya, my therapist?"

He snorted. Even if he was, Arthur would raise his prices through the roof to deal with someone like Alfred. Which, he thought bitterly, he was doing twice a week these days for free, anyways. "No. God, no." He laughed breathlessly. "Just making conversation."

Deflating, Alfred shook his head, a defeated expression on his face. He turned his attention back to Arthur's failed homework, picking up his pencil and swinging it between his pointer and middle fingers. "'Course you were."

Arthur watched as Alfred fixed his hair and surroundings- clearing his calculator, stacking the numerous scratch sheets, etc.- the latter all the while sending glances of various distaste in Heracles' direction.

He looked up at Arthur, and, noticing him staring, stuck his tongue out. Arthur snorted, shaking his head and clicking his tongue at Alfred's childishness.

Picking up his pencil, Alfred bounced his leg, annoyingly causing the table to shake. He had been doing it the entirety of their session, and while Alfred claimed it made him concentrate, it got on Arthur's nerves. "What question were we on again?"

Arthur scowled, deadpanning. They had come away from their task for not even five minutes, and he had already forgotten. Alfred offered a sheepish smile and laugh as a way of an apology, but he ignored it.

"We're on twenty."

He nodded, smiling as if he knew it all along. "Twenty. Right~."

Arthur rolled his eyes, huffing. As they started back up again, he found himself constantly turning around and checking the time on the nearby clock, counting down the minutes until he could finally return to his house.

* * *

"Jesus Christ, where is he?" Vlad huffed in frustration, pouting and crossing his arms.

They were sitting at what had quickly become their usual table in the courtyard, their lunch laying on the metal top. The space across from them was empty, Lukas not having yet arrived, to Vlad's ever growing irritation.

And Arthur's, as well.

"I'm sure he's on his way. Lukas is rarely late."

Vlad rolled his eyes, drumming his fingers against the table. He had grown unusually snappy these past few minutes, which could be blamed on the circumstances of today's lunch break. "Yeah. Which is why it's so weird." Vlad froze, his eyes widening to the size of saucers, his mouth gaping. "Wait. Do you think they could be having-"

"And here they are." True, Lukas and his guest had finally walked into the courtyard, but they were far enough away to be out of ear shot. The severe unwant of hearing Vlad finish his sentence was enough for Arthur to point it out, even if it was a pet peeve of his.

As he got closer and closer, Lukas' smile grew wider and wider. Mathias was smiling as well, though it was smaller. Shaky.

Arthur snorted, shaking his head. He was nervous. How cute.

"Guys, this is Mathias." Lukas nodded to him, Mathias smiling and saying his greetings. Arthur watched as the two sat down, grinning at each other as they did so.

Vlad watched as well, a smug smirk spread across his face. He rested his cheek on the palm of his hand, slowly nodding his head. "Oh, we know who Mathias is." Vlad put extra emphasis on his name, his smirk growing into a smile.

Lukas rolled his eyes, tsking. "Stop." He turned to Mathias, who was playing with the holes in the table. The smile Lukas had on his face was nauseating. "Mathias-" he looked up from his fiddling, turning his attention to Vlad and Arthur as Lukas motioned to them. "This is Vladimir Popescu-" Vlad nodded, his smile unwavering, giving his usual introduction spiel. "And this is Arthur Kirkland."

Mathias' smile faded, and Arthur mentally cursed. He had forgotten the vendetta against him since his situation with Alfred- and Antonio for that matter. It was stupid of him to  
assume that they had done the same.

"Arthur Kirkland? You're Arthur Kirkland?" Mathias' eyes were wide, his eyebrows shot up in surprise. Lukas furrowed his brow in confusion, Vlad doing the same, also cocking his head to the side in addition.

"Why're ya lookin' like Arthur like he's the man who savagely murdered yer mother?" Vlad leaned in, hunching over the table.

Mathias perked up, shaking his head and blinking rapidly. He gave the three a bright, reassuring smile, or at least that's what Arthur figured it was supposed to be. "Oh, sorry, it's nothin'." Glancing at Arthur, his smile faded a bit, but was quickly back at full force. "Arthur just has a bit of a reputation at our table."

Arthur nodded, his suspicions having been confirmed. So they knew his name, maybe a general description, -but not his face. Surprising, but, at the same time, not so much. He had made sure to avoid Alfred's friends- especially Antonio, after that cake incident- and rarely saw them outside of lunch, and even that was from afar.

Vlad relaxed, leaning back, a small but wary smile on his face. It was weird, Arthur thought with a tinge of bitterness, that Vlad and Lukas were worried about him, even in such a trivial situation such as this one, when his old friends never were. They never really cared, Arthur just being another person to buy them alcohol and cover for them when a teacher came around the corner. Hell, when he told them that he was moving to America, they didn't care, didn't say so much as a goodbye.

And here he was, two months later, with Vlad looking as if he were prepared to rip a throat out over him. It felt... nice, to have someone feel that way about him.

Lukas smiled, giving Mathias a small laugh and a nod of his head. "I'm pretty sure that Arthur has a reputation everywhere. All of various qualities."

Arthur laughed, tipping his head back, not bothering to confirm how true Lukas was. He looked down, reaching for their lunch- apples and whipped peanut butter- as he listened to the others' reactions. From the corner of his eye, he could see Mathias smiling, hearing him chuckling, though they both seemed forced. As if it was a struggle not to reveal the truth.

As the laughter died down, the smiles beginning to fade, Vlad pounced. "So, Mathias." He grabbed an apple slice, dipping it into the peanut butter and biting into it with a crunch. "What did ya think of yer date? With Lukas? Last Friday?"

Mathias smiled, looking off to the side. His eyes glazed over a little bit, his shoulders relaxing as he most likely relived the memory. Vlad watched, growing impatient, drumming his fingers against his cheekbone. Arthur could hear him tap his foot under the table.

Leaning forward and scooting in, the hard table cut into his stomach. He folded his arms and hunched over the table. Arthur gave Mathias a honeyed smile, one that was nice and sweet. "Oh, yeah. We've only heard Lukas and his gushing."

Lukas tsked, Vlad laughing and clapping his hands. Mathias chuckled, looking slightly uncomfortable, but trying his hardest not to show it.

Looking down, Mathias scratched the back of his neck. He raised his head and smiled, a cocky little grin filled with pearly-white teeth. One of his canines was slightly crooked. From the corner of his eye, Arthur could see Lukas double take at his smile, but the former ignored him.

"It was fun. Really fun." His smile grew wider, and he nodded, sure of his answer.

Vlad blinked in a quick succession, leaning back. He laid his hands flat on the table, giving Mathias a surprised smile. "Fun? It was fun. That's all you have to say."

Mathias took in a sharp breath, his face falling. He looked like a kicked puppy, living up to his nickname, his lips pursed into a fine line and eyes filled with... something. Rejection, sorrow, or maybe guilt, he supposed.

Arthur tsked. He was losing his touch.

Rolling his eyes, Lukas put a hand on Mathias' shoulder. He gave his boyfriend a reassuring smile, making Arthur want to gag from the sweetness laced in it. "Mathias, ignore them. They're just protective." He turned to Arthur and Vlad, frowning. "Guys. Y'all need to leave 'im alone."

Mathias shook his head, his freckles scrunching up as he smiled. "Nah, it's fine. I know I'd be protective of ya, too. 'Cause you're just so stinkin' cute."

Lukas smiled, laughing and lightly shoving his shoulder. "Stop." Mathias giggled, strands of his hair falling out of place as he did so. The two shared a look. One of those disgusting ones that made you vomit in your mouth a little.

A hand slithered up Arthur's back, stopping at his shoulder, causing him to jump. He turned, relaxing upon realizing that it was Vlad and not a random assailant. The latter leaned towards him, hot breath blowing on his ear as he whispered.

"They haven't even been dating for more than a week and they're already giving each other looks like that. Disgusting." Arthur nodded, agreeing fully and whole heartedly. Next thing they knew, the two would become a "we" couple.

And that would be the exact moment Arthur makes his hasty escape.

Not being able to bear any more of their lovey-dovey mush, Arthur racked his mind for a possible question, saying the first thing that came to mind. "Mathias." He looked up from his conversation with Lukas, a small bit of color draining from his face upon realizing it was Arthur speaking. "What exactly gave you the courage to accept Lukas' proposal? For the date, I mean."

Vlad made a quick glance towards Arthur, smirking, before turning to Mathias. "Oh, yeah. So, did it just pop up, a heat of the moment sort of thing, or was it slow and left to boil over the years?"

The confusion on Mathias' face was almost enough to make Arthur laugh. He stuttered over his words, remaking and remaking his answers, before finally settling on, "What?"

Vlad and Arthur both smiled, Arthur's a bit more sarcastic than the former's. cocking his head to the side, Vlad's smile grew, the seal on his lips breaking to show teeth. "Oh, y'know. Lukas has been wantin' ya for the past- what?- nine, ten years and-"

"Vlad. Stop."

From his tense jaw, hardened eyes, Lukas looked angry- no, murderous would be a better way to describe it. He put his hand on Mathias' shoulder, pulling him to the side to whisper in his ear, not unlike the way Vlad did with Arthur. After a few seconds, Mathias pulled away, smiling and whispering something back. Lukas huffed, the corner of his mouth twitching up.

Arthur raised an eyebrow, reaching for an apple slice. He waited impatiently for them to finish, fidgeting his fingers and biting his lip. They had to stop eventually. Maybe.

When they were first trying to set up Lukas with Mathias, Arthur had no clue that this would happen. The quiet, aloof Lukas Bondevik had turned into a monster, one that giggled and squealed and tickled. Gone was the beloved friend he once knew, replaced by... this.

"Mathias~. Ya never answered my question."

The two jumped, turning to Vlad, who had a sweet, unknowing smile spread across his face. Finally, the interrogation would continue. Finally.

Mathias pouted, looking like a toddler told that he couldn't have his desired toy. Averting his eyes, he blinked- once, twice, three times- letting a fair amount of time between each one. "Well-" he scratched his head, huffing and smiling like he was one of the happiest men in the world. "It's kind of a funny story, actually-"

"Oh, do tell."

Arthur snorted at the way Vlad said it, his tone sounding like he was about to hear some juicy gossip. He himself was excited to hear Mathias' story, only to see if there was some kind of lie wedged in it, just to make sure everything was good and genuine.

To see if this wasn't just some kind of sick game to Mathias.

Mathias looked at Lukas, the expression on his face unsure. Not even a week of dating and he already looked like that. Lukas nodded, smiling, giving him damn permission.

One week. What will a year be like?

"It started around, like, the third grade-"

"Oh, so ya started crushin' on him around the same time he did you."

"Yeah, actually-"

"Wow, what a coincidence." Arthur couldn't help it. He had to say it.

Lukas sent a glare in his direction, Vlad snickering, covering his mouth to hide it. Arthur didn't say anything back, keeping his attention on Mathias.

The latter kept smiling, not showing any sign or anger or annoyance. It made Arthur wonder if he was always like this- him being the Human Golden Retriever, of course- or it someone, such as Alfred and the other fools at the table, prepared him for this. For Arthur.

For some reason, both seemed likely.

"It's- uh, it's kinda weird, I guess, but in the fourth grade, I joined the orchestra because I heard that Lukas was thinkin' about it."

A small noise came out of Vlad's mouth. It was quiet enough that only Arthur could hear it, the couple across from them not showing any signs of doing so. Vlad leaned back a bit, careful not to fall off the bench, crossing his arms. "So, the rumors were true, then?"

Mathias' nose scrunched up, piles and piles of freckles wrinkling along with it. "There were rumors?"

Vlad's smile had turned smug. Like a long time theory of his had been proven true. "Yes, there were."

Mathias turned to Lukas, looking confused. The latter just smiled at him, patting his arm, before moving his attention to Vlad and Arthur. "Guys, I think it's time y'all stopped with the-"

"Why, Lukas? Arthur n' I are just gettin' to know our new friend. Y'all're plannin' on bein' together quite awhile, aren'tcha?"

"Yeah, but-"

"Mathias, what instrument do you play?" Blinking rapidly, Mathias turned his attention to Arthur, cocking his head to the side. His eyes were wide, smile tight. He had definitely been prepared before coming.

"I'm sorry?"

Arthur cleared his throat. "In the orchestra. What instrument do you play?"

Mathias perked up, straightening his shoulders. He seemed to relax a bit, now that he had finally gotten a relatively easy question. "Oh, I play the cello."

Vlad twisted his body around, looking Arthur up and down with a raised eyebrow. "What does that have to do with anything?"

Arthur shrugged. "Just curious." He leaned to the side, looking under the table. The space around Mathias' feet was empty, and so was the bench next to him. No case. Arthur sat upright, smoothing out the wrinkles in his shirt. "You don't have it with you. Did you leave it in the orchestra classroom?"

A sheepish smile. As if the whereabouts of his cello had been a recently discovered secret. "Uh, nah. I keep it in my locker, get it out on my way to class. So I don't haveta lug it around everywhere."

Arthur nodded, satisfied with his answer. He quickly tried to think of something else to say, freezing when an idea popped into his head. "Speaking of your locker-" Lukas perked up, looking back and forth between Arthur and Mathias. The latter kept his smile bright and sunny, just as he had been doing most of their little get-together. "What did you think of our- Lukas' letters?"

Vlad looked at Arthur, staring at him with awe and jealousy. Arthur smirked, happy that he had thought of the question first.

Cocking his head to the side, it took Mathias a few seconds to realize what Arthur was talking about. His eyes widened, his mouth gaping. "Oh! Sorry, sorry, sorry." He chuckled, it being a bit breathless. "Sorry 'bout that. Yeah, I was pretty surprised when I saw the first one. I read it, and was like, 'Who the hell is this?'"

Lukas laughed, that turning into a giggle. Going along, Arthur chuckled, though he didn't really see what was so funny about it.

Mathias continued, though his voice was slower. Unsure. "Actually, I kinda thought it was an accident, until I got the second letter. And the next one and the next one. the flowers were really a surprise, and my mom ate most of the chocolate before I could get to it."

He sent the three a sheepish smile after the last part, an apology for not putting their gift to "proper use".

It didn't matter. They were chocolates, and not even good ones, either. They were made with an American recipe, which, of course, meant a severe lacking of sugar. Arthur spat out his piece when he tried it, gagging his way to the bathroom.

"How did you figure it out? That it was me sending them?" Unlike Vlad and Arthur, Lukas' voice was soft as he spoke, like he was having a simple conversation, and not interrogating him.

Vlad sent Arthur an exasperated look as Mathias turned- actually twisted his body, resting his side against the table- to Lukas. The two smiled at each other, a rosy pink slowly spreading across their cheeks.

Arthur tried his best to suppress the gag, but failed. Vlad sent him a quick glance, sympathy shining in his eyes.

"At first, I had no clue who it was. Hell, I didn't even know who that Frithiof guy was." Mathias laughed, and Arthur had to give him credit for remembering the subject for their first letter. Even he had forgotten, and he was the one who wrote the damn thing.

"Everyone at the table- over there, where I eat lunch with my friends, I mean- was tryin' to figure out who was sendin' 'em." He shook his head, smiling as if he felt stupid for not knowing the answer was right in front of him. In this case, it was literal. "And then, you walked up to the table, lookin' all nervous n' everything and you were clutchin' that book you always carry around with ya, and it was right there! You were there! I felt so embarrassed, not bein' able to figure out that I what I was lookin' for was close enough to slap me in the face."

Lukas tipped his head back and laughed, Mathias doing the same. He grabbed the latter's upper arms, squeezing tight, then rubbing them up and down.

Arthur stared at them with a raised eyebrow, feeling a bit nauseous. He vowed then and there, that if he ever found someone insane enough to be in a serious relationship with him, he would never be as affectionate with them as those two were with each other. At least in public, anyways. He refused to be- no, he couldn't be- that cruel to those around him.

Arthur turned to Vlad, throwing all his desperation into the look he gave him. The latter nodded, thankfully understanding what Arthur wanted him to do.

Reaching for an apple slice, Vlad made his voice loud enough that those at the neighboring tables would be able to hear it. "So~, Arthur." He bit into the apple, glancing to the side to see if the two had stopped there fondling, waiting until they came apart. They did, eventually. "How was your tutoring session with Alfred?"

Arthur groaned. They had moved on from one hellish situation to another. He should've expected Vlad to bring it up, considering that he had ranted and raved so viciously about it earlier that week. It was foolish of him to think that they wouldn't ask about it.

Lukas pulled away from Mathias, who pouted- actually pouted- and returned his attention to his friends. He rested his elbows on the table, cupping his face between his hands. "Oh, yeah I was wonderin' about that. How'd it go?"

Mathias furrowed his brow, cocking his head to the side. "Arthur's tutorin' Alfred?"

Lukas shook his head. "No, the other way around. Arthur's been failin' a lot of his assignments, so Mr. Wang has Alfred help 'im after school on Tuesdays and Thursdays now. Yesterday was their first session."

Mathias slowly nodded, an unreadable expression spreading across his face. Arthur frowned at Lukas, feeling slightly betrayed that he would divulge that much. The latter smiled back, and though it was small, Arthur knew that he had finally gotten his revenge. Arthur gritted his teeth.

That bastard.

Silence fell over the table, and it wasn't until Vlad cleared his throat that Arthur realized he was still waiting for an answer. He scowled, remembering the events of the previous afternoon.

"He showed up twenty minutes late, regularly insulted me, and, worst of all, I had Kiku as a chaperone." More and more anger showed in his voice as he spoke, and by the end of it, he spat out Kiku's name in disgust. Arthur grabbed an apple slice and, not bothering with the peanut butter, popped it into his mouth, chewing violently. It made him feel a little bit better.

Vlad winced, swearing. "That bad, huh?" He shrugged, pursing his lips. "Hey, at least ya didn't have to do it with Kiku."

He snorted. "That would be literal Hell. I would rather fail than spend more than five minutes with him."

The three laughed, Vlad slamming his hand against the table. Mathias stayed silent, his eyes narrowed and his mouth etched into a frown. This was Arthur's first official meeting with the boy and he already thought it didn't fit him.

Lukas, upon seeing Arthur staring at him, whipped his head over to Mathias. He put his hand on the latter's shoulder, only for him to slowly pull away. "Mathias? What's wrong?"

He shook his head, keeping his attention on Arthur. Before he even spoke, Arthur knew exactly what was coming. Exactly. "Alfred insulted ya? As in, Alfred F. Jones, Alfred? He wouldn't do that, he's such a nice guy."

Arthur huffed, deflating. It seemed that every single time Arthur went in a five-foot radius of one of Alfred's friends, they said that line. Every single time.

Vlad shook his head, tsking. "I know y'all constantly say that about him, but Alfred isn't perfect."

Mathias tensed. "Yeah, I know that, but-"

Setting his hand on Mathias' back, Lukas shook his head. "Mathias, yer not gonna win this. Those two are very stubborn."

Mathias huffed, shaking his head. He muttered something too quiet for Arthur to hear, and most likely the same for Vlad, while Lukas gave him an apologetic smile. He only received a tiny one back.

Silence fell over the table, save for the chewing and crunching of apple slices. It was all terribly awkward, in Arthur's opinion, and he racked through his mind to find a new conversation topic.

Alfred was off the table. Mathias had grown defensive of him, and it pained Arthur to have the image of the fool in his mind. He was the only one in choir, and bringing up orchestra again had the risk of starting another mush fest. Arthur wasn't even sure that Vlad played an instrument, so that would leave him out of the conversation altogether, anyway.

He definitely didn't want to talk about grades. That would only succeed in rubbing salt in his open wound, something he sincerely wanted to avoid. Besides, their lunch period was, as they had decided a few weeks ago, "sacred", with no talks of projects or homework allowed. Arthur found the rule to be almost counterproductive, but didn't object to it.

The mood of the table was rapidly deteriorating, the once playful and questioning atmosphere turning to gloom. Arthur didn't know why he cared so much, he could just take out his book and read for the rest of the period, but a conversation, for some strange reason, sounded much more desirable. And less awkward, for that matter.

There was nothing in particular that Arthur was curious about, not anything that anyone at the table would know about, maybe except-

Oh. _Oh._

Arthur perked up, eyes wide, blinking rapidly. How did he not think of him sooner? He had the potential of becoming a major part of his plan, after all.

"Mathias." He, along with Vlad and Lukas looked up from wherever they went during the period of silence. Mathias smiled, still looking angry, making it smaller than usual.

"Yeah?"

Arthur paused for a second, pursing his lips into a fine line. What was that kid's name again? The one who looked like he was a few steps from toppling over and falling asleep?

"Do you know... oh, shit, what's his name?" He ran his fingers through his hair, cringing at how greasy it was. Arthur smacked his forehead, groaning. Vlad chuckled, shaking his head, not bothering to help as he watched Arthur struggle.

It started with a G- no, and H, and it sounded Greek or something-

He had it. "Hercules. Do you know Hercules?"

Vlad and Lukas broke out into a wave of chortles and cackles, clapping their hands as if they were damn seals. Mathias smiled, breathing in sharply, looking as if he was barely keeping the laughter contained.

"Pft. Hercules?" Mathias shook his head, chuckling. He clamped his hand over his mouth, his shoulders shaking as he tried to keep it all in. "Do ya mean Heracles? Heracles Karpusi?"

Rolling his eyes, Arthur tsked, huffing. Vlad and Lukas had yet to stop laughing, and Mathias was close to joining them, if how tense his smile was was any indication. "Shut up, at least I got most of it right."

Vlad's face was growing red, and he wiped his eyes and set his hand on Arthur's shoulder. He had half the mind to brush it away, and almost did, but knew that if he did, they would only carry on.

"Arthur- Arthur." Vlad shook his head, lowering it to the table and folding his arms around it. The shakes of his shoulders and the muffled noise only made Arthur fume.

He gritted his teeth, digging his fingernails into the palm of his hand. Arthur took a deep breath, rolling his neck back, trying his best to calm himself by counting to ten.

It didn't work.

"Shut the bloody hell up and answer my god-damn question." Several people around them turned to Arthur as he snarled, but he ignored every single one of them.

Mathias' eyes widened, his smile growing and becoming laced with... wonder, strangely enough. "Did you just say-"

"Don't." Arthur knew exactly what he was going to say, stopping it before he punched him in the face. That would certainly earn him brownie points in various social groups.

Mathias raised his hands in surrender, Lukas huffing at it. Their laughter slowly died down, causing Arthur to relax- only a little bit, though- and deflate. "Just- just answer my question, will you."

Mathias nodded, giving him what he assumed to be a reassuring grin. "Yeah, man, sure. Ya wanted to know if I knew Heracles, right?" Arthur nodded. Mathias winced, rubbing the back of his neck. "Mn, can't say that I do. I mean, he's sat with us at the table a couple times, yeah, but he mostly just talked to Kiku. Hell, it's almost like he's got a crush."

Vlad furrowed his brow, frowning, glancing back and forth between the two. "Who's Heracles?"

Arthur snorted. So he mocked him without even knowing who Arthur was talking about. Fantastic. He ignored him. "So, you would say that Heracles has a crush on Kiku?"

Mathias shrugged, clicking his tongue. "I dunno, I guess. He's always blushin' around and talkin' to 'im and every time he looks at Kiku, he's got this funny look in his eye. And he doesn't really seem to like Alfred to much, or vice versa, really, but I'm not really sure."

Arthur nodded, his theory having been confirmed. Somewhat. He would have to do some inner digging.

Vlad cleared his throat, looking peeved. Arthur gave him an apologetic smile for having ignored him, but it was brushed off. "Who's Heracles Karpusi?"

Mathias smiled. "Just a weird guy who sleeps all the time. He's not really too important, and isn't gonna be. Hell, I dunno why Arthur even asked about him."

Vlad and Lukas both shared a look at that, seeming curious and just a bit suspicious.

Arthur himself had to disagree with Mathias' later statement. If he was correct and his theory proved to be completely- and he meant completely, one-hundred percent- true, then Heracles would play a huge part in the plan. If the idea that was slowly forming in Arthur's mind went through, then Heracles could be the person to set it all off.

He tapped his fingers against the table, letting the idea finish laying itself out. He smiled, feeling smug, ignoring his lunchmates' demands at knowing what he was so happy about.

* * *

Every time Mathias blinks rapidly, just think of that white guy from the meme. And yes, I used the "When writing England don't overuse this" B word. Did I use it correctly?

I'm gonna keep this shorter than usual. I'm not really happy with this chapter, it all seems kinda rushed. But that's not the point. My birthday is this week, and in celebration, I'm taking said week off from writing. I've devoted my whole summer break to Cross Life, and, even if it's just for a couple of days, I want to set the pencil down for a while. This doesn't mean much, only that Cross Life Chapter Ten: Lace and Cotton will just be one week later than usual.

Thank you all for reading Cross Life Chapter Nine: X's and O's, I apologize for being a day late with the update, and I'll see y'all on the 30th of July! Once again, thank you for reading, I hope you have a wonderful morning, day, and evening!


	10. Cotton and Lace

"Arthur? Are you almost finished?" His mother's voice was muffled as she rapped on the door to the bathroom in three quick successions, the tone of her voice showing that she was growing impatient.

He took a sharp breath as he buttoned up his sleeve, his breeches cutting into his thighs as he twisted. "Yes, in just a second." Arthur reached for his shoes, wincing at how terribly tight everything was. Sure, the tailor had told him it was supposed to be this way, but in her own words, "It's only supposed to be a bit snug".

Arthur felt as if he were about to pop, as if all his insides would come oozing out in a bloody and chunky smoothie.

The tile was freezing cold under his stockings, making him shiver, taking in another sharp breath. The shoes were easy enough to put on, the heel cap short enough that he could slip his feet in. His smallest toes rubbed against the sides, and would most likely cause a pair of nasty blisters, but Arthur figured that would stop once he broke them in.

Arthur made a quick glance in the mirror, cringing at what he saw. He told himself that everyone else was going to be wearing the same thing- or at least something similar- and that this was considered high fashion many centuries ago, but it did little to calm his ever-growing embarrassment.

Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, Arthur twisted the door handle, slowly pushing a small sliver open and sticking his head out.

Along with his family, Vlad and Lukas stood in the living room, tapping their feet with anticipation. They smiled upon seeing him, Vlad pushing himself off the wall and taking a step forward. Lukas look as if he were about to do the same, but stayed where he was. "C'mon out, Arthur. Can't be that bad."

Arthur snorted, shaking his head. "And that's where you thought wrong."

His mother frowned, tsking. She had been on her very best behavior while his friends were over, which thankfully meant no yelling and no looks of disappointment, but at times like theses, some of her true self slipped through. "Arthur, dear, stop being silly. Come out this instant."

He huffed, stepping back to pull the door open. Their faces lit up as Arthur stepped out of the bathroom, the fabric between his thighs rubbing together.

His mother put her hand over her mouth, her face reddening. Her eyes became watery, and she quickly wiped the tears away before they could ruin her caked makeup. Arthur had to suppress a groan and an eye roll. If she was like this seeing him in a damn choir uniform, then he dreaded when graduation came around.

If they even went to his graduation, that is, considering their current pesky situation.

"Arthur… you look-"

"You look like an alternative coloring of Lord Farquaad from Shrek."

"Shut up, Peter."

He stuck his tongue out at Arthur, kicking his feet against the bottom of the sofa. Vlad chuckled at his actions, most likely being reminded of his own little brother, but was quickly cut off by a glare from Arthur.

Arthur's mother shook her head, clucking her tongue. "Peter, don't be rude." Arthur's eyes went wide, and if he wasn't watching, he would've choked. It was rare that his mother would scold Peter for anything, even if important people visited, which made it even more surprising.

She walked up to Arthur, tugging down his tunic and picking a piece of lint off his puffy green and white striped sleeve. Straightening his hat- which was probably the only part of the costume that fit correctly- she ruffled up the feathers and took a step back, looking him up and down. And frowned.

Vlad and Lukas snickered as she licked her thumb, setting her hand on Arthur's shoulder to keep him still. The latter grimaced as she rubbed it across his cheek, erasing whatever trivial spot she found, leaving behind a sticky, slimy trail.

"There. That's better." She put her other hand on his free shoulder, shaking him a bit. Her smile was soft, warm, like it used to be when she looked at him, and when she spoke, she whispered, quiet enough that only he could hear. For once, she wasn't screaming at him from across the house. "Don't listen to your brother." She brushed some of his hair away from his face, her fingers soft and gentle. "He's just jealous at how handsome you look. He wants desperately to be like you."

Arthur snorted, shaking his head. "I somehow doubt that." He made sure to be as quiet as she was, if not more so.

Shaking her head, her smile grew as she walked backwards towards Arthur's father, a few of her teeth showing.

The living room fell silent, everyone staring at Arthur with various amounts of awe on their faces. Everyone expect for Peter, who had left mumbling about how he hoped Arthur would do something- go to hell, most likely- and pouting.

Lukas watched as Peter walked away, navigating around the various pieces of furniture, and running up the stairs, an unreadable expression across the former's face. He turned his attention to Vlad when he spoke, the latter clapping his hands and rubbing them together. "So~, how does it feel?"

The room seemed to perk up, seemed to lean in at Vlad's question. His father drummed his fingers against the arm of the armchair, his eyebrow raised. A telltale sign that he was actually interested in what he was listening to. A rare occurrence.

Arthur looked down, wiggling his toes in his shoes. The rough fabric of his stockings clung to his legs, his knees looking awkward and gangly. His sleeves rubbed against his side, causing a slight scratching sound each time he moved his arms. A collar of lace wrapped around his neck, engulfing most of his chin and lower jaw. Arthur would surely get a rash later, as it was rough, rubbing against wherever it touched. The only way he could describe his outfit was-

"Itchy." Vlad's eyes narrowed, Lukas' brow furrowing as he cocked his head to the side. Huffing and rolling his eyes, Arthur cursed that he was being forced to clarify. Who knew the reaction he would get from his mother. "It feels itchy. The fabric does."

His mother tsked, shaking her head. The unusual kindness that she had displayed not even minutes earlier was gone, eaten up by whatever demon was living inside of her. Arthur knew the only thing holding her anger back was the fact that they had friends over. "What do you mean, dear?" She smiled, batting her eyelashes. Her words were honeyed, hiding the venom. Arthur knew where to find it, though, from years and years of practice.

He shrugged, relishing in the pure annoyance that flashed through her eyes. It was always something amusing to see, despite what usually came after it. "I dunno. It just doesn't… feel right."

"Do you not like it?" There she was. Her true self was budding its head, slithering out of its disguise, regardless of who was with her. Vlad and Lukas sent quick, discreet glances laced with questions in her direction, their eyes narrowing. She was starting not to care, consequences be damned.

"I-"

"I'm sure he'll get used to it. Eventually." It was the first time Lukas had spoken since Arthur went into the bathroom. He had a small, serene smile on his face, similar to the others he had been sporting these past couple of weeks.

His mother whipped her head to him, her eyes cold, calculating. Planning. She reminded him of a green snake, observing- measuring and sizing up- her prey.

He only hoped that Lukas- and Vlad, too- would be smart enough to get out while they still could.

She nodded, her smile growing even sweeter. Taking a step back, his mother put her entire, unrelenting focus on Lukas. "Yes… I'm sure he will. Eventually." She put extra emphasis on the last word, mocking him. Not that he would be able to tell, considering the fact that his mother's had years of perfecting of perfecting her craft. What's more, she learned from the very best: Arthur's grandmother, the Wicked Witch of England.

Her heels clicked against the hardwood floor as she turned to Arthur, cocking her head to the side and folding her hands over her stomach. Arthur tensed his jaw, pursing his lips into a fine line bracing himself for the full brunt of whatever she was planning. "You'll get used to the itchiness, won't you, Arthur?"

This was a test, he knew it was. She was trying to see how he would react in front of his peers, in front of his friends. Whether he would stay calm when faced with her typical methods or resort to one of his "temper tantrums". Of course, this was only the first part, and would be followed by many more, but Arthur had learned to spot these kinds of things from the moment the words come flooding from her mouth. She had been doing things like this since he was a kid, after all.

He smiled, giving her a simple nod. When he spoke, he made sure his words were kind, sweet, reassuring. The doting son to go along with the ever concerned mother. "Of course, I will. I'll just have to wear it a few times, break it in."

The two shared a look. One that, if it weren't for Vlad and Lukas patiently standing next to them, smiling in a washed down version of the typical American fashion, would've become a long and grueling battle of wills. With a huff, his mother broke eye contact, Arthur relishing in the fact that he had won. For now.

Shaking her head and tsking, something that she had been doing many times these past months, she turned to face Arthur's father. His nose was stuffed in a thick paperback, his fingers having slowed down to a soft tap, in rhythm with his foot. Her dress- calf length and floral, a pattern that seemed to be a staple for Kirkland family women- swished as she made a swift turn, wrapping around her leg. As she approached him, she tried to discreetly fix it, but failed miserably, glaring at Arthur and Vlad as they snickered.

"John?" His father answered with only a small nod and a huff. His mother had always found his non-verbal replies irritating, and had complained about it many times through Arthur's life, and, once again not finding what she received satisfactory, tsked and snapped her fingers in his face. "John."

Groaning, he leaned back in the chair, deadpanning. He closed his book with a snap, not before setting a flimsy receipt in the crease of his current page. Brushing strands of his thick red hair out of his face, he raised an eyebrow, his deep voice grumbling as he spoke. "What, dear?"

She crossed her arms, frowning. "Have you noticed your son's new outfit?"

"I have."

"And?"

"And?"

"And what do you think of it?"

Watching the two speak to each other, Arthur felt as if he were in a period drama, his parents a pair of templates copied straight from a Pride and Prejudice-style trope. He glanced over to Lukas and Vlad, giving the two an apologetic smile when he found them looking back. Arthur earned a reassuring grin and a nod in return.

He straightened up as his father turned his head to him, looking Arthur up and down. The latter tapped his foot, staring at the ceiling, his shoulders tense. He would gladly take Peter's non-stop whining over this, or perhaps a weekend trip alone with his mother. It had always made him uneasy when he had his father's unrelenting attention, that critical eye sweeping over him. It was uncomfortable, made him want to swiftly walk away and lock himself in his room or apologize, even if he did nothing wrong.

It made him remember, made him angry.

Opening his book again and situating himself in his chair, his father huffed, pushing his reading glasses up his nose. "It's nice, I guess." He crossed his legs, resuming his reading.

Rolling her eyes, his mother put her hands on her hips, cocking the latter to the side. She tapped her foot, her heel clacking against the hardwood flooring. Out of the corner of his eye, Arthur could see Lukas put a hand to his temple, rubbing it slowly. A pet-peeve, then.

"You guess? You guess it's nice."

"What else do you want me to say?"

Arthur took his chance and quickly stepped over to his friends, standing in the middle of them. "If they start yelling, we dart to my room," he whispered. The chance was rather slim, but he had to have them be ready should it happen.

Vlad glanced at them, then at Arthur, then back at them. He put his hand on Arthur's shoulder, leaning in to whisper with enough volume that Lukas would be able to hear as well. "Are they always like this?" He sounded… cautious. Wary. As if he were actually concerned for Arthur and his family.

Lukas cleared his throat before Arthur could answer, grabbing the latter's arm and wrapping his hands around it. He leaned back, his voice even softer than Vlad's. "When she looked at me, I saw my life start to flash before my eyes. It was terrifying."

Arthur nodded, feeling a bucket of sympathy for his friend. "She sometimes has that effect, believe me." Not entirely true for him, but it was different for others.

Vlad cleared his throat, and Arthur remembered the former's question. He didn't- no, couldn't give the real answer, if only to reveal his family life and have to explain all the shallow ups and deep downs that came with it. And that might lead to having to explain why exactly they had chosen to move to America and what followed, something that he desperately wanted to avoid. So, he lied. "No, it doesn't happen often. It's rare, actually. Don't worry, it usually boils down quickly, we've nothing to worry about."

Vlad nodded, his eyes narrowed. Arthur's reassurance didn't seem to help ease his nerves at all, but he didn't say anything else. Lukas' grip around his arm tightened, his fingers surely leaving a mark.

"I don't know, one would think that since we spent four hundred dollars on that damn costume-"

"I didn't spend four hundred dollars. You did."

Lukas froze, looking up at Arthur with wonder and surprise. "This thing cost four hundred?" He tugged Arthur's sleeve, running his thumb along the bumpy fabric. He scrunched up his nose. "That could buy me a really good violin case."

Vlad snorted. "That could get me a shelf's worth of books." The other two nodded at Vlad's statement, rows and rows of special edition books flooding his mind.

He would have rather bought that, or at least some nice stationary and merchandise for various books he had read, instead of this scratchy heap of cloth. At least then he would actually use it for more than a year, whereas the fate of this costume was unknown the second the last note was sung of the final Madrigal concert.

The three watched as Arthur's parents bickered, providing commentary when they felt like they needed it. From how tense she was, Arthur could tell that his mother was a few minutes from blowing her top off, and knew that his father wouldn't be far behind once she started yelling.

He had to admit to himself that it was rather embarrassing for his friends to see such a side of his family, but was shut down when he tried to apologize for it. A normal family issue, they had called it as they started making bets on who would win. Although he thought it mental at first, Arthur quickly joined them, all the while quickly conjuring up a layout of the house, should they need to escape.

He had to admit, though, that his betting was a bit watered down, sullied by his exhaustion of dealing with their fights year after year. Arthur pretended to be enthusiastic, to overestimate his parents' wrath, and thankfully they believed him. "My mum, definitely. She's a force that can't be stopped."

Vlad leaned in front of Arthur, nodding his head in agreement to Lukas. "Definitely his dad." He pursed his lips into a fine line, furrowing his brow. He stayed like that for a few seconds, before perking up and puffing up his chest, saying in a voice that even a wrestling announcer would seethe in jealously of, "The unstoppable force versus the immovable object."

Arthur tipped his head back and cackled, not entirely caring about how loud he was or if his parents saw. Lukas giggled, covering his mouth with his free hand, his cheeks growing red.\

Confident with what turned out to be a successful bit at comedy, Vlad grinned, a little bit of teeth showing, huffing through his nose. He muttered something under his breath, so quiet that even though he was practically on top of Arthur, he could barely make out a single word. Arthur was sure it had something to do with "earning proper appreciation", but he couldn't be entirely sure.

The laughter died down, Lukas removing his hand from his mouth. "Oh god, I just can't believe the way ya said that-"

"Boys?"

They looked up to see Arthur's mother standing in front of them, her shoulders tense and chin high. Her face was a rosy pink, yet her eyes weren't watery, so she was likely more furious than anything else. Arthur sincerely hoped that everything went smoothly and without a hitch for the rest of the evening, since he wanted to avoid one of her "venting session", as she called it, as much as possible. And, by extension, a nasty headache.

Lukas released Arthur's arm as soon as her eyes went to it, taking a step forward. "Is there anythin' wrong, Mrs. Kirkland?" Arthur had to suppress a snort, rolling his eyes at the sweetness in Lukas' words. He was sucking up to her after their previous interaction, it was obvious, but Arthur felt sorry for Lukas. If only because he had yet to learn that his mother would take names and smuggle grudges down to the bottom of her grave. And the fact that they didn't know that they had wronged her, if only by association with Arthur.

Many, many times in the past, she had openly disagreed and mocked Arthur's choices for friendship in his face and in front of his brothers, and while he hoped it would be different for Vlad and Lukas, it didn't seem to be the case. She always found something wrong, whether it be taste in music and literature or something as trivial as they way they laughed. It never failed, she always hated every single one of his friends, unless, of course, it was someone she had arranged for him to meet with, and did any and everything she could to try and drive them away.

Sometimes, she had even succeeded in her mission. And while Arthur knew that if Vlad and Lukas didn't want to associate with him anymore due to his psychopath of a mother, he would let them go and find someone else , but that didn't mean that he wanted to.

Besides, he was too deep into the plan to have to suddenly find another set of allies.

When she smiled, it was a sweet, sarcastic little thing, one of her trademarks, and when she spoke, her words were filled with thinly veiled disgust and hate. "Oh, Lukas, don't you worry your little self about it. It's fine."

Taking a few steps back, she took in a deep breath, her shoulders rising as she did so. If Vlad and Lukas weren't there, Arthur would have no worries about saying that that was most likely why she was removed from the church choir back home. Of course, he had to think about them now, and the consequences of his mouth around them, so he would unfortunately have to save his witty comment for a later date.

She looked back and forth between the three of them, ignoring Arthur's father as he abandoned his book on the coffee table and left the room, making his way towards the kitchen. Arthur would've thought that she had not noticed his departure, were it not for the footsteps thumping across the hardwood. They were loud enough that even the most distracted person in the world would snap up in a tizzy from whatever they were doing.

Just as she had done previously, his mother folded her hands across her stomach, and spoke, ever the queen addressing her court of rather questionable teenagers. "So, Arthur, I must say that you look simply dashing in that outfit of yours. You've always looked good in green." He nodded once at her compliment, smiling only to keep her anger at bay. "I would like you to continue wearing it throughout the evening, you know, so you can get used to it. Eventually."

Her smile grew at the last part, and she quickly glanced at Lukas, measuring his reaction to her mocking. The latter frowned, his cheeks turning red, but didn't say anything. Smart.

Arthur nodded his head again, his smile growing smaller. He clenched his fist, not before hiding it behind the folds of his trousers. "Sure."

She huffed, slightly shaking her head. A dismissal. "Vladimir and Lukas." The former perked up, cocking his head to the side and giving her a smile with his teeth on full display. The latter slumped his shoulders, his face falling. "You two are staying over for the night, yes?"

Lukas let Vlad speak, the former crossing his arms. "Yes ma'am. If ya don't mind, of course."

"Not at all. And you've notified your parents?" It was subtle, but Arthur knew she was referring back to the night of Lukas' date, when he hadn't felt it necessary to inform her he was not coming home that evening. Not that his friends would know about that, but in his mother's world, everyone was at fault.

While Lukas only nodded, and a bit timidly at that, Vlad's smile grew wider, the skin around his eyes scrunching. "Yes ma'am, you've got nothin' to worry about.'

"Fantastic. I'll go and make sure that we make enough food." And with that, she was off, clicking down the hallway and towards the kitchen, the fabric of her dress fluttering behind her.

Arthur cringed, pulling at his stockings, goosebumps rolling up his arms as it let it go. His friends remained silent, Lukas breathing in as the mood of the living room began to grow lighter and lighter.

"Arthur." Vlad's smile faded, falling into a frown, his posture slumping.

He deadpanned. "Yes"

"I hope ya don't get offended with me saying this, but yer mother's bat-shit crazy."

Lukas snorted. "Crazier than that."

He supposed that since they were bluntly and openly insulting his own mother, he should feel offended and somewhat angry about it, but Arthur couldn't help but agree more.

* * *

Over his many, many years in the Kirkland family, Arthur had quickly learned that while his mother valued her reputation, she cared about her curiosities and uncalled-for theories more. It was one of the few things that matched between the two of them, though this particular trait usually did the former more damage than anything good.

Arthur took a sip from his glass, his teeth scraping against the glass. He swirled his water around as if it were fine wine, chunks of solid ice crinkling around. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see his father's grip tighten around the handle of his fork, but payed no mind to it, sentencing him to deal with it. The noise wasn't even that loud, but his father had a twig up his ass at best, and found anything that Arthur or his brothers did to be mildly annoying.

"Mrs. Kirkland, this casserole is wonderful." Vlad took another bite, smiling as he chewed. He circled his fork above his plate, waiting until he swallowed to swoop in for another mouthful. A bit of rice fell onto his shirt, but he picked it off quickly, discreetly glancing around to see if anyone noticed.

His mother smiled, setting her silverware down to fold her hands onto her lap. She cocked her head to the side, nodding in thanks and appreciation, Arthur already knowing what she was going to say before she even opened her mouth. "Thank you, Vladimir. It was a recipe my grandmother taught me when I was around Peter's age." She motioned to her youngest son sitting across from Vlad with a swift wave of her hand. "I always try to make it when we have a few guests stay over for dinner, to see what they think of it."

Peter snorted, covering his mouth, fork still in hand, when their father sent a look in his direction. Their mother's smile didn't deflate a single bit, as she didn't even give any indication that she noticed Peter, staring at Vlad with the utmost intensity.

The latter's, however, faltered just a tiny bit, boosting up back at full force as he nodded. "Oh, really?" He took in a deep breath, letting it out through his mouth, his chest shaking as he did so. "Well, that's always nice, I guess. Trying to keep the tradition up and runnin'."

Arthur considered revealing the truth to the table, that she had actually ripped the recipe off the Internet a few years ago and claimed it her own for a sense of self-importance, but decided against it. If only to spare himself from the storm that would brew up only seconds afterward.

His mother nodded, perking up, and thanked Vlad. As what usually happened when such an occurrence came up, her smile turned smug, and she glanced at the ceiling, basking in her new-found attention. Arthur hoped it wouldn't be too bad, and would be- unfortunately for him- about Peter, but such luck never seemed to be with him these days.

"You know, I have a funny story involving this casserole and Arthur." She looked at him, her face loving and kind, though if you looked close enough, you could see that it didn't reach her eyes.

Arthur could feel the color leech from his face, and he clenched his fists under the table, careful not to let anyone else see. She was going back to that one. He had asked her multiple times to stop telling the story, especially in front of people that he liked, but here she was, about to spill it out all over again.

He took a deep breath, cocking his head to the side, his smile tense and back stiff. "Mum, I don't think that this is a good-"

She shook her head, lips pursed into a fine line. And right at that moment, Arthur realized that this was the beginning of the second part of her test. The vile woman. How cruel of her, to reveal the more angrier moments of his past into the light when he had purposefully and skillfully covered them these past couple of months. "Arthur, it's not too bad. It was years ago, and it goes perfectly with out dinner pallet."

He glared at her with what he hoped to be enough hate to make a small child cry. She stayed the same, persistent, didn't do anything to show that she was affected by it.

Lukas looked back and forth between the two, sitting at Arthur's right and his mother's left from the head of the table. Before, when everyone was sitting at their various spots, the former balked when the only remaining seat was right next to her, and had mostly kept silent throughout the dinner. Until now, apparently, when he d3decided to make their current situation that much worse. "Er, if you don't mind, Mrs. Kirkland, I would like to hear yer story."

Arthur suppressed a groan, sending a deadpan expression in his friend's direction. The fool had no idea what he had cause just by saying those handful of words, and he probably wouldn't get it until it was too late. "Too late" being the second after she finished humiliating Arthur.

His mother perked up, clapping her hands then lacing her fingers together. Peter scooted his chair forward, leaning in and setting his elbows on the table, already knowing what she was going to say as much as Arthur did. The thing was, the former enjoyed it- still getting a degree of amusement out of it, even after hearing it so many times- and regularly asked for it to be repeated, unlike the latter.

Tapping her fingers against the wooden dining room table, her stylishly manicured nails making an irritating clicking sound, her words were slow and emphasized as she spoke, pouring a bag of salt into the wound she was viciously ripping open. "Well, it was around the time when Arthur was in- what you you Americans call it? Year… Freshman year. Yeah."

Arthur tipped his head back and groaned, knowing that once she started, there was no way he could effectively get her to stop.

She frowned at him, lightly clucking her tongue, before dismissing him with a wave of her hand. "Anyways, at that time, Arthur's older brothers were still at home. All four of them are currently in uni back home in England, but that's besides the point." She picked up her fork, pushing the almost untouched food around her plate, Arthur wincing at the scrapes and scratches as she spoke. "Arthur has never really gotten along with his brother Dylan-"

"They practically hate each other!"

"Yes, thank you, Peter. Anyway, they were getting into a nasty argument one evening, over something that was so trivial that I don't even remember what it was, and a few moments prior I had just taken this casserole out of the oven and had set it on the table."

Arthur closed his eyes, breathing in deeply. The moment of truth, the time when the gates that were his mother's mouth would open and out would come the things that would mercilessly smear the reputation that he had so carefully and painstakingly built up with his friends.

Not because he was ashamed of it, of course. He looked back at his past, his hard-earned and bravely faced accomplishments with pride. He praised them each time a memory popped into his mind, reliving each moment detail by detail, remembering the smells and the sounds, noting what he could've done better and smiling at the highlights. Each of his "outbursts" were wonderful, beautiful. They were his to cherish and his alone.

However, in front of his friends, with the way they considered and thought of him, this story would do damage. A lot of damage that he couldn't take. Which was something that he could surely- and preferably- go without.

Of course, she didn't see it that way, nor did Peter, the little fool, for that matter, as she continued the second Vlad and Lukas nodded, giving her their full, undivided attention. Arthur considered telling them that it was nothing they wanted to hear, and it was an old story with no significance anymore, but figured that that would only peak their curiosity. He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms and huffing, watching as his mother ruined everything he had so far worked for this school-year.

"By then, they had turned almost violent, and their yells could be heard from the kitchen. Since I new no one else was going to do it-" She sent a quick glare towards Arthur's father, who was eating and didn't pay her any mind. She frowned. "I made my way to the dining room to stop them, and right as I walked in, Arthur grabbed the back of Dylan's neck, or maybe it was his head, and dunked him face-first into the casserole."

Arthur sunk into his chair as the room fell silent, dropping his fork to rub his temples. He waited for the looks that he often got after she got to the climax of the story, the ones filled with disgust and disappointment and shock. The ones that would grow worse and worse and she began to tell even more, going into an analysis of Arthur's life in England. The ones that were prior to the averted eyes, stuttering, and general awkwardness. The ones that led to those "friends" of his quickly fading out of his life, gone faster than they came.

He had to say, it was nice knowing Lukas and Vlad while they had their short run together.

Her smile grew into a cocky little thing as she leaned back in her chair, taking a sip of her beverage. When she noticed Arthur was staring at her, his mouth etched into a sneer and his brow furrowed, she shook her head, lightly tsking.

His fingernails formed dents in his hands as multiple vulgar insults passed through his mind, most- no, all of them not something you would want to say in front of your mother. Arthur supposed that they would be worse, considering he wanted to say them _to_ her. But with what she had just done, cussing her out like he oh-so desperately wanted to do probably wasn't the best thing, and would do more bad and good.

But it would feel so, so good while he did it.

What had to be even more surprising than the events of this evening was when Lukas- Lukas, of all people- broke out into a howl, his shoulders and stomach shaking. He cupped his head between his hands, his fingers messing up the hair that covered the side of his face as they rubbed up and down.

Vlad quickly followed, covering his mouth as bits of water spilled out. He shook his head vigorously, lightly tapping his free hand against the table, his laughter muffled. He swallowed his water, not without struggle, and joined Lukas in his shrieking.

A soft tint of cherry red spread across their faces, Lukas wiped a tear from the corner of his eye, and then the other. It was shocking, Arthur seeing the exact opposite of the reaction he had anticipated, had figured would happen. He couldn't help but grin, then break into a full-blown smile, teeth and all, berating himself for thinking them to be like all the others.

His mother looked more taken back than Arthur felt, her eyes wide and smile faltering. Slowly setting down her glass, she straightened her back, taking in a deep breath, and cocked her head to the side. She watched the two laugh, and eventually Arthur when he joined them, her jaw tense and her eyes cold and hard. Her plan, her method that had been tried-and-true more times than Arthur could count, had backfired at its most basic level.

It was amusing to think about it, really. To see her so angry about her failure to continue ruining his life. Arthur could only compare it to a toddler who didn't get the toy after causing a tantrum in the store, which only made her seem so much more pathetic.

Vlad's laughter died down just enough to where he could get a coherent sentence out. It took a few tries, however, as every time he got out a string of words, he burst into another fit. Eventually, he spit out his sentence, literally, his words bunched together. If Arthur hadn't been listening so intently, he's sure he would've missed it. "And then what happened next?"

Lukas nodded his head, smiling and giggling with enthusiasm. The two leaned in, Vlad propping his head on the palm of his hand, drumming the fingers of his free hand against the table with impatience.

Arthur rolled his shoulders back, smirking, feeling smug. He glanced up at the ceiling, just as his mother had done earlier, studying the wrinkles and creases that covered it as he uncovered the memory. Tapping his finger against his chin, making sure to go agonizingly slow, Arthur took his time as he told the rest of the story. "Well, Dylan's face was covered, and he was screaming bloody murder. The neighbors even came over later, thought that we were being abused or something like that." He chuckled, a quick glance to his mother showing her rolling her eyes and shaking her head, muttering something under her breath. She frowned when he snorted. "And, since the casserole had been tainted with Dylan's disgusting face, it's not like anyone was going to eat it."

The two nodded, grinning as they listened. Peter was laughing breathlessly in his seat, and shook his head as he reached for one of the large serving platters that lined the middle of the table. His arm shook as he carried it over, and though Arthur's father put down his fork for once to try and help him, Peter waved him off, making a whiny comment about how he could do it himself. He received only a huff and a shake of the head as a reply.

Arthur watched their exchange, suppressing a snort at his little brother's antics. He snapped out of it, rolling his neck back, before continuing. "Of course, he was livid, though he's hotheaded to begin with so that didn't really make much difference. Anyway, he grabbed the dish, which had his face printed into it, and threw it at me." He made a throwing motion with his arm, reenacting it, his fingers tensed and curled.

Their eyes widened, mouths gaping. Lukas shook his head, taking in a sharp breath, giving Arthur a concerned look. "Did it hit you?"

Arthur's smirk grew, and he chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. He remembered his other brothers cackling as they watched, cheering them on and placing bets n when their "fight" would turn even more physical. And even though his mother pinpointed that moment as one of the "starts of all their problems in the poor Kirkland family", it made Arthur feel good. It made him feel like he had finally done something right. To him, at least. "No, it didn't. I ducked just in time for it to fly over my head. It hit the wall and smashed into pieces, though."

His mother snorted, scooping helpings of food onto her plate and Lukas'. The latter sent wary glances in her direction as she did so, but still paid attention to Arthur. "And I'm sure you boys could guess who got the honor of cleaning that up." She scowled at that, her mood souring.

Peter frowned, looking up from his plate and to his mother. "But mum, if I remember correctly, you left the room yelling about how you were done with us and Allistor was the one who had to clean-"

"Quiet, Peter."

Vlad chucked, but returned to his food upon receiving a glare from her. Arthur snickered at that, shaking his head at his friend.

Lukas straightened his back against the dining chair, grinning as he turned to Arthur. "Please don't tell me that that's the only store ya got like that."

He opened his mouth to speak, to suggest that they move on and focus on a different, less suspension-riddled topic, but his mother cut him off before he could get a single word out. "Actually, that was one of the more mild ones."

Lukas and Vlad's eyes widened and their brows shot up as Arthur glared at her. Compared to some other ones, the dreaded casserole story was like Arthur giving a lolli to a baby. Of course, they never needed to know the worst of the bunch, and never would, if Arthur had anything to do with it, but that would mean keeping his mother in check. Something that he had never been able to do.

Vlad took a quick sip from his glass. "Really?"

Her smug smirk was back, and with the attention of the table being returned to her, she rolled her shoulders back, giving sparing looks at each person seated. "Indeed. Arthur's good behavior and tasteful clothing has only been… recent." She put extra emphasis and nodded once at the last word, raising her glass and circling it. "In the past, calling him unpleasant was possibly the largest understatement you could think of."

Arthur deadpanned, holding back a cruel insult. How dare that woman insult him while, at the very same time, congratulating herself for her "accomplishments" of "taming" him? It was distasteful, and while he knew this was her he was talking about, Arthur expected even a little better.

Lukas turned his focus to Arthur, looking him up and down with an inquisitive eye. "Well, I've noticed those two little holes under his lip-"

"Oh. Those were piercings. He forged my signature and got them without permission. Among other things, of course."

Arthur let out a huff as Lukas'- along with Vlad's, for that matter- eyes grew even wider, sinking into his chair. At the time, he thought his actions completely justified, and he still did. His mother had been vehemently against it, complaining about how it would lead him into trouble later on, but had no problem with letting his brother take money out of the swear jar for his cigarette addiction. Let them pay for the lung cancer and see how they liked it.

Vlad looked impressed, pursing his lips and nodding. "That type of piercing, what's it called?"

"Snake bites."

Another nod.

Sensing the conversation turning into a directions he found undesirable, his mother cleared her throat, rolling his stiff shoulders back and holding her chin up. "They were awful. Every time you looked at him, your eyes went straight to them. My friends would comment to me about them all the time and-"

He rolled his eyes as she went on and on, talking about how much of an embarrassment he was to her in her various social groups. Arthur took a sharp breath, letting it out harsher than he intended to, earning a glare from his father. A warming.

As if he would ever take it.

Vlad and Lukas listened along as she announced her woes, her frustrations of having a son who turned out oh-so wrong when she had only a mountain level of high expectations. Who "only had to follow his brothers' examples, get into playing football, having good grades, and then just easily succeed like that", but had to end up the way he was. Who would give her a near heart attack every time she saw the school's number calling her cell phone. The son who was the bad crop of the bunch, and how she "figured that with six sons, at least one of them had to turn out bad", which happened to be him, of all of them.

Arthur stayed silent throughout her rant, his blood boiling. Multiple violent outcomes of this situation swimming through his mind. Not a single one of them ended well for him. Whether it was prompting an outburst from his mother, going off on her and ruining the progress he'd made with his friendships, or having a later screaming match after they left. None of them were desirable, none of them made him erupt with excitement.

As she went on, his friends' faces went from curious to angered to offended. From what Arthur could tell, really. Vlad's brow was furrowed, his shoulders stiff and mouth gaped. Lukas' lips were pursed, his eyes cold and hard. It surprised Arthur, to see them this angry for him, and it felt nice. Amazing. This had never happened before, never, with most agreeing with his mother. He had gotten used to it happening.

But this. This was so much better.

Vlad shook his head vigorously, throwing away most of his impeccable manners in favor of cutting Arthur's mother off. "Excuse me, ma'am, but that isn't how I see Arthur at all. From the time I've known him, he's been nothin' but kind and respectful."

Lukas leaned against the table and looked over Arthur, nodding at Vlad. He then turned to her, shaking his head, mouth forming into a subtle sneer. "And if that's how you view your own son, if that's what you really think of him, then you need to stop looking at him as the problem and turn the mirror onto yourself."

Arthur sunk even further in his chair, his shoulders raised to the level of his chin. He looked tot he end of the table, measuring the reactions of Peter and his father. The former had frozen completely, staring at his plate, eyes wide and jaw dropped to the floor. He slowly raised his head, looking between Lukas and Vlad with awe, wonder, and just a bit of horror. The latter, however, being his usual self, kept eating, staying out of the conflict as he always tried to do.

What Arthur feared most was the reaction of his mother. She might not yell at his friends- no, she would never do that and risk her reputation, even if it was nonexistent in the states, but that didn't mean that Arthur himself would be saved after they left. He was definitely going to be on the receiving end of a tongue thrashing tomorrow evening, or maybe the minute- the very second- the front door shut and they were out of the driveway, but the real situation was in the present.

Her jaw tensed, so much that he thought it would snap, and she smiled, one that dripped with hatred and frost and fire. One that told him that while she might let them into the house again after tonight, she would not do it without an argument, and would shun them from the moment their left feet stepped onto the hardwood of the entry hall.

She grabbed her glass, her fingers wrapping around it and gripping the ridges hard enough that her knuckles began to turn white. For a moment, Arthur thought she would throw it, and prepared to duck should it happen to come in his direction.

She looked straight at Lukas, her smile turning into more of a sneer. "That's what you two think. So you just wait. I know my son, so you just wait, and once one thing goes wrong, once you slip up in even the tiniest way, then you'll really know what your 'kind and respectful' friend is like."

When she finished, the room fell silent, tensing. She gave each person at the table a look over, and when it was Arthur's turn to be inspected, he could feel her already searing gaze grow hotter, and he felt relieved but sympathetic when it moved on to Vlad.

In one of her very own temper tantrums, one that could rival Arthur's worse, she stood, the wood of her chair scrapping against the floor. She grabbed the folded cloth napkin that had sat on her lap, throwing it onto the table with an angered grunt. It flapped against her plate, which still had food piled up on it. He cringed, knowing that it would stain

"I am done with all of you." She spat out each word, her chest jumping up and down as she heavily breathed. "All of you!"

Her heels clicked as she stomped out of the dining room, cursing and ranting to herself, though Arthur would be lying if he said he didn't hear every single word. He was, along with everyone else in the dining room, frozen in place and silent, listening to the heavy thumps from the stairs to the second floor, and then the eventual slam of a bedroom door.

He didn't move, didn't think at all, just replaying the past ten minutes over and over and over again. Arthur should have expected it, should have seen the rapidly blinking signs, should have stopped it when he could. But no, he had to let it happen, had to sit there like a damned fool as a known active volcano blew her top, spewing her lava on anyone in a limited radius. Idiot. He was an idiot.

Picking up his glass, Peter took a sip from his drink, making sure the noise could be heard throughout the room. When he finished, he pulled his lips away just a tiny bit, his voice deeper than it usually was. "Well, that was awkward."

Arthur's father grunted in agreement, before continuing to eat.

* * *

The three quietly filed into Arthur's room, Vlad and Lukas going to sit on the edge of his bed as he shut the door.

Following his mother's rather embarrassing episode, Arthur figured it best to get them out of the dining room. Ushering them out of the dining room, he left his father and Peter to clean up the dishes- ignoring their whining and protests- and made a beeline towards his bedroom. Sure, they were closer to her, but they were behind a close door. One that locked without any trouble, and had a connection bathroom. Arthur was also confident that at least one of them had snacks in their bag, and he had an electric kettle sitting on his desk along with a full box of tea, so they were set.

As the lock clicked in place, he left to join his friends, tossing his shoes into the corner, his bed groaning as he sat. Arthur stared at his toes, wiggling them in his stockings and tapping them together. From the corner of his eye, he could see his friends fidget and twiddle their thumbs, but didn't say anything, and neither did they.

They sat there for a few minutes, the entire house silent. Waiting. When someone finally spoke, all three of them did it at the same time, their words bundled and rushed.

"I apologize for the behavior of my family tonight."

"Oh, hell, I did somethin' really stupid, didn't I?"

"Arthur, I think yer mom's gonna murder me in my sleep."

They froze, looking back and forth between each other. Arthur deflated, hanging his head and shaking it side to side. What a disaster.

Vlad tipped his head back and laughed, flopping down on Arthur's bed. He folded his arms under his head, his shirt rising to reveal a slip of soft stomach. "My lord. Did ya hear how she said that last part. It was like she was a witch and was gonna curse us."

Lukas snorted. "Did y'all see the way she looked at me when I told her to turn the mirror on herself?"

"This was one of her good days," Arthur added. Not entirely true, but at the moment, he was pissed off and wanted to blame her for his terrible mood. Making her seem like a bad guy was a good way to do it, he figured.

Vlad winced, taking in a sharp breath. "I feel sorry for ya, Art." He moved his arms to pat his stomach, smacking it in a random rhythm. "I really do."

He shook his head, cringing. That was one of the last things he wanted to hear. "Don't be. She's been this way for years and she'll never stop. I'm just surprised she did it in front of you two, since she usually values herself more than humiliating me."

Lukas shook his head, muttering something under his breath. It sounded like he was saying, "That isn't right at all," but Arthur couldn't be entirely sure. And if he did say that, then he would have to agree, even though nothing about his family had ever been right.

Groaning, Arthur pushed against his knees, stretching his arms after he stood. The carpet was soft under his feet as he turned, folding his arms behind his back as he faced Vlad and Lukas. They looked up at him, expressions neutral and just a bit defeated, as if his mother had sucked all the life and energy out of them. Since they'd not yet gained their immunity to her, she probably had.

"So~." Arthur clapped his hands together, locking his fingers and squeezing. Vlad watched as he did so, patting and rubbing his knees, a frown on his face. Lukas had his eyes closed, taking in deep breaths. "Are you guys still planning on staying over. If you don't want to, that's-"

Vlad shook his head, waving him off. Arthur had no idea what exactly he was dismissing, him staying over or the thought that he wouldn't want to, but Arthur waited for him to clarify, cocking his head to the side and furrowing his brow.

"Yes?"

Vlad sighed, slumping. He chuckled, his smile returning, which was a relief. "Arthur. I'm not gonna ditch ya cause yer mother's a psychopath." Arthur's eyes shot up, a smirk forming as Vlad perked up, waving his hands back and forth like his life depended on it. "I mean no offense, of course."

Lukas snorted, crossing his arms. "Of course, ya don't." The two shared a look, one that Arthur didn't bother to figure out, as it was gone before he could even start. Lukas broke into a smile, huffing, before turning his attention to Arthur. "I agree with him. Yer mom is… interesting, and even if she had her… thing, it's not a valid reason to break our friendship."

Arthur nodded, smiling, happy with the answers that he received. He turned, walking to his closet, and as he pulled the doors open, scanning for extra blankets and pillows, Lukas added:

"Oh, and I told my mom that I was stayin' over and I don't wanna call her to pick me up."

He scowled as Vlad snickered, turning his head to give Lukas a look of distaste. The latter shrugged, a small smile on his face, looking away and shrinking into himself as Arthur deadpanned. Lukas took in a sharp breath, letting it out through his mouth, silently tapping his foot against the floor. "And because you're one of my best friends, of course. Though it hasn't been long, our friendship is valuable to me."

Arthur smiled sarcastically, turning back to his closet. As he took a step inside, nudging some thrown-in junk with his foot, he spoke. "Thank you. That means a lot."

His friends nodded and the three exchanged smiles, Arthur's a bit more fake than the others. The last few minutes of that disastrous dinner kept replaying, and though they had said otherwise, Arthur couldn't help but feel as if his mother had done some damage. Irreversible damage.

Arthur could've gotten them out of there. He could've shoved Vlad and Lukas up the stairs and into his room, plates in hand, promising to bring them down when they were done. But no, he had to sit there and watch as she cracked and snapped, attacking everyone as if she were a rabid honey badger. It only showed that he was losing his touch, losing that sense of his when shit was about to hit the fan.

They took turns going into the bathroom and changing into their pajamas, the two that were free pulling the blankets and pillows from Arthur's closet and off his bed. Throwing them onto the floor in a giant heap, the three were set on making a makeshift bed, ignoring Arthur's in favor of using it for their planned shenanigans for the evening. Even if they did decided to use it, it was too small to fit all three of them in it.

The carpet was plush, and comfortable enough that none of them would be waking up before the crack of dawn showed, complaining of back pain. Since they had only moved in during the height of summer, which wasn't that long ago, the carpet was stain-free. Well, except for a minor tea spill back in August. But he'd gotten that cleaned up quickly and thoroughly, to the point where one would have to get down on their hands and knees to notice the stain.

Vlad unfolded one of the thinner blankets, laying it over the top of a thicker one. "So, what're the plans for tonight?" He looked between Arthur and Lukas expectantly, pulling the corners of the blanket flat.

Arthur froze, looking up from his patting and stretching. "Uh…" He didn't want to admit that he had not gotten that far, had not expected to get this far, so he racked his mind for something to do, Arthur said the first thing that popped up, acting nonchalant, as if he had it planned the first time he proposed them staying over. "I was thinking that maybe we could talk and read. Stuff like that."

Lukas looked over to him, raising an eyebrow. Arthur smiled back, his eyes wide, sending over a silent message not to ask him anything about his answer. He received no reply in return.

Hanging his head and going back to what he was doing, Vlad talked as he worked. "That sounds like a good idea. I've got a new one to show y'all." He stood, brushing invisible dust off his knees, looking over their little ensemble with a critical eye. Arthur did the same, and when he noticed that it was a bit flat and thin, cringed. Vlad followed suit, putting his hands to his hips and giving Arthur a wince. "You don't happen to have any more blankets, do ya?"

Arthur nodded his head, rolling his shoulders back as he stood. They had a closet in the hallway, one that was filled with sheets and bedding for the guest room. He had thought of it earlier, had acknowledged it as a possible trip, but didn't think they would need it. He had hoped they wouldn't. "Yeah, we do. I'll be right back."

He padded to the door, putting his hand against the lock and freezing. Behind him, he could hear a confused noise and some shuffling, but he ignored it. A wave of thoughts ran through his mind, but he waved them all away, thinking himself pathetic. He twisted the lock and pulled the door open, light from the hallway pouring in.

Arthur shut the door on his way out, a soft click sounding as it connected with the doorway. He stood in his place for a second, blowing a deep breath out, carding his fingers through his hair. This entire evening was a mess.

His socks swished against the hardwood, the hem of his cotton pajama pants ghosting over his ankles as he walked. The closet was at the end of the hall, right next to his parents' bedroom, so he would be able to sneak in-and-out quickly, should he stay quiet.

He wrapped his hands around the cold, metal handles, rubbing his thumb over the engraved patterns. It was smooth, his finger gliding over its dips and bends. He continued rubbing even as he pulled both doors open, wincing at the squeaky noise that was a result. They would definitely be putting something on that.

Knowing that someone likely heard the shriek of pain that the closet emitted, Arthur stepped inside, pushing up on the tips of his toes to reach the very top shelf. He grabbed onto the blanket at the very bottom, pulling it down with a hard yank.

Arthur shielded his head as piles and piles of bedding came tumbling down on top of him, falling from his head to the floor. He looked around, scanning for anyone in the area that might've seen his blunder, before quickly picking up all the fallen blankets.

He piled them all up in his arms, doing an odd dance to keep them from falling back down. Arthur leaned to the side, attempting to use his foot to close the closet, before giving up after a few failed tries. Coming back out after dropping off the blankets would be a more efficient way to do it, he concluded, and would save him a few embarrassing tries.

Scanning the floor for any ones he had dropped, Arthur nodded, feeling satisfied, when he found none. He turned, waddling his way down the hallway, stopping every few moments to adjust the pile and stretch.

"Arthur."

He froze, cursing under his breath, and turned to his mother. Her eyes were red and puffy, trails of black makeup running down her cheeks. She had changed into sweatpants and a solid t-shirt, a box of tissues being clutched in her hand.

Rolling his eyes, he turned and continued his way back to his room, not wanting- no, not willing to give her the mind and attention she oh-so desperately wanted.

"Arthur, Arthur come back here." Her voice was wobbly, as if she were just about to burst into another fresh set of tears.

He shook his head, huffing. "I don't want to deal with you right now."

This was just another part of her game. A pity party to try and draw Arthur in, to make her seem like a caring and empathetic mother who had just gotten into a petty argument with her son. She would wrap her arms around him, softly rubbing his back, whispering about how sorry she was. Of course, her apology would only be a group of thinly veiled insults, blaming him for what happened, and her grip on his shoulders would have her nails digging into it, but from the outside, from far away, you wouldn't be able to tell anything was wrong.

Arthur was disgusted with himself that he had fallen into her trap more than once in his life, and quite often during those years when he sought validation and praise from her exclusively.

From the corner of his eye, he could see her shake her head, pulling a tissue from the box and dabbing it under her eye. Her breath hitched. "Don't say that." She took a step forward just as he resumed moving. "Arthur, dear, don't ever stay that."

He rolled his eyes, maneuvering the blankets to sit between his chest and right arm as he used his left to open the door. He pushed it open, seeing Vlad and Lukas' heads rise.

Arthur stopped in the doorway, turning to her one final time. He deadpanned. "I don't care. Go get some eye drops, your tears are a bit lacking."

He could hear Vlad snort and his mother scramble for words as he walked into his room, throwing the blankets haphazardly onto the floor and slamming the door shut. Arthur squatted as his friends started grabbing blankets and adding them to the "sleep zone", as it had been called one time, Arthur joining in once he got himself situated.

Vlad glanced up at him multiple times, obviously expecting something, but Arthur ignored it until the former stopped working. He looked up, raising an eyebrow, frowning. "What?"

He shook his head, huffing. "Are you okay, Arthur?"

"Excuse me?"

"I mean, after tonight, with yer mom and everything, it's just kinda worryin' that you go through that every single day." He averted his eyes, fidgeting, as if saying so might set Arthur on a warpath.

Arthur nodded his head, smiling. "Yes, I assure you, I'm perfectly fine."

Lukas sighed. "If ya say so."

The room fell silent as they started diligently working, the pile of blankets Arthur retrieved slowly but surely dwindling. It gave him some time to think, and he went on autopilot, letting his hands do the work as he was lost into his thoughts.

Mathias had said that he was pretty sure that Heracles had a crush on Kiku. However, a "pretty sure" was not a definite, and if Arthur were to go in and talk to him in the blind… It would be disastrous. It could spell the end for his entire plan, gone and revealed before it even began. He would have to go in and probe for himself, bring it up to him to see his reaction, but for now…

A bit of outside opinion would do.

"I've got a question, and I want it to stay between the three of us." Vlad and Lukas looked up, Arthur's attention going immediately to the latter of the duo. "This means that Mathias is not included."

Lukas blushed, a rosy red spreading across his cheeks. He hung his head and crossed his arms, grumbling under his breath.

Vlad snickered, but nodded his head, waving his hands for Arthur to continue. "Yeah, sure, whaddaya need?" He scooted closer, leaning in, as if he expected to hear some deep and dark secret.

Arthur sat, criss-crossing his legs. "Er-" He tried to figure out how he was going to say this, how to make it sound like he was doing nothing but asking a question out of pure curiosity. Arthur tipped his head back, humming and studying the ceiling, his throat vibrating as he did so. From the tapping and huffs and puffs, he could tell they were growing impatient.

He sat up straight, tsking, and said the first thing that came into his mind. "If you have a crush on someone, what are some of the signs that would show?" He trailed off at the end of his sentence, his voice growing quieter, and he crossed his arms.

He waited for them to speak, preparing a mental list of all of Heracles' behaviors around Kiku, or at least the ones he had already seen, where he would check them off one by one.

Vlad's eyes widened and he lowered his head a bit, pursing his lips. Lukas deadpanned, staying silent and watching Arthur with keen interest. Vlad stuttered as he spoke, taking a few pauses to think of more. Arthur nodded each time he brought up a symptom. "Well, uh… when you're around them, you're constantly blushin'-"

Check.

"You always wanna talk to 'em, no matter what it's about-"

Check.

"I guess you can't help but have a distaste of those that are really close to them, like a boyfriend or a girlfriend or someone like that."

Check. It was extremely obvious that Heracles had a dislike for Alfred- at the least- and vice versa, for that matter.

"You can't stop thinkin' about them."

Arthur winced. He could assume, but assumptions weren't confirmations and it was iffy.

"And, uh… every time they do somethin', you can't help but-"

"Arthur." Vlad frowned as Lukas cut him off, but the latter didn't seem to care. He narrowed his eyes, looking Arthur up and down, his head cocked to the side.

He raised his eyebrow, a silent question to Lukas' verbal one. They sat that way for about a minute or two, Arthur drumming his fingers against his thigh in a random pattern to pass the time.

It wasn't until Vlad huffed, crossing his arms and pouting, that the silence broke. "Lukas~! Come on," he whined, lightly shoving Lukas' shoulder.

Lukas ignored him, keeping his eyes on Arthur. He repeated his name again.

"Yes?" Arthur pushed some strands of hair out of his face, giving his friend a sweet, honeyed smile.

When Lukas spoke, he asked such a question in such a blunt and dead way that Arthur couldn't help but choke on his own saliva. "Do you have a crush on Alfred F. Jones?"

Vlad erupted, jumping to his feet, a large smile on his face and eyes wide. He pumped his fist up in the air, yelling about how he knew it, doing a small happy dance.

Arthur gave Lukas a look of horror, who returned only a raised eyebrow. He was expecting an answer, then.

Reverting to his instincts, Arthur started waving his hands, shaking his head with the same amount of vigor. When he spoke, he stuttered over his words, something that made his cheeks heat u. "No- no, of course, not. Why would I- why would I have a crush on Alfred, of all people."

Lukas broke into a smug smile, leaning back and crossing his arms. Vlad had by then finished whatever he was doing, and sat down with his legs in a butterfly position. A small dimple appeared in the corner of his mouth as the latter spoke, his teeth showing as he smiled. "Ugh! Why didn't I think of it before? Yer always talkin' about him, always run into him, and-"

Vlad perked up, eyes growing to the size of saucers. His mouth gaped, and he raised a hand to cover it. "Oh my god. At Lukas and Mathias' date, when you followed Alfred into the bathroom, were you two-"

"No. No. Don't you dare go there. You have no idea what actually hap-"

Lukas nodded, getting what Vlad was trying to say. "Arthur, if you're in a secret relationship with Alfred, we'll support ya. But I really think that you two need to tell Kiku or it's gonna get pretty messy-"

"I'm not in a relationship with Alfred," he yelled, running his fingers through the carpet. How could they, his very own friends, assume that he was in love with someone he hated? Sure, Arthur found the fool attractive, had since the first day they met, but as soon as he opens his loud mouth, all of the perks of his looks went down the drain. He would never be able to stand such a person so much as to be his friend, much less in something more. "And I'm not telling Kiku, because there's nothing I need to tell that snake."

Vlad pursed his lips into a fine line. "You and Alfred would be such a cute couple, though." Nodding his head, Lukas said his words of agreement.

Arthur deadpanned. "I doubt it."

"But you would!"

Lukas stood, stepping over their pile of blankets and squatted next to Arthur. The latter balked as he was pulled into a loose hug, the former resting his head on his shoulder. "Don't worry, Art. You supported me in my awkward love affair, so Vlad and I'll support you in yours. Even if it's three times worse."

Vlad nodded, clapping his hands together, and Arthur wondered for perhaps what was the millionth time in the past few months what exactly he had just gotten himself into.

* * *

Thank you guys so much for reading Cross Life Chapter Ten: Lace and Cotton! This is going to be a rather long note, but **there is something very important in it!**

For all those of you who wished me a happy birthday three weeks ago, thank you very very much! I got this writing software called Scrivener, and my lord, it makes editing so much easier. I don't have to constantly turn my head and scratch down stuff on my notebook. Though, I do miss the handwriting practice, everything is much more efficient now.

Speaking of writing, if you've noticed, recent Cross Life chapters have been getting super duper long. Suuuper duuuuper long. Chapter ten was eleven thousand words, and while I'm happy that I've got the motivation and skill to write that much, it takes forever to type out and edit. In addition to that, school is starting up and I'm expecting a large workload this year (lots of AP classes), so please be understanding if I start missing a lot of deadlines. For the past couple chapters, I've been staying up really late (it's almost four am right now), which is very unusual for me. Just so everyone knows!

 **Now, this part is important. Very important.** At the bottom of my profile, there's a link to a Cross Life survey. It's pretty short, only nine questions, but it will help a lot if I were to have some participants. so pleeeease! It only asks questions like how you think of it and who's your favorite character and stuff like that. You might not think it much, but trust me on it.

I'm sorry this has been really long, but once again, thank you for reading Cross Life Chapter Ten! I will try to see you all two weeks from now, but until then, have a excellent morning, day, and evening!


	11. Line Walking

"I'll see y'all on Friday. Now get out of my classroom."

Arthur grumbled as Mr. Vargas haphazardly tossed his binder full of sheet music onto his desk, sending papers and pencils to the sides and down to the floor. The latter stretched his arms out, his white dress shirt tightening around his biceps, his shoulders scrunched up.

The choir room broke out into a fit of noise, some individual voices louder than others. Most talked about what they had gone over during practice, what pieces they were worried about and how they went flat on that one high note. Others simply talked about their plans for the weekend, or the amount of homework they had that evening.

Grabbing his backpack, Arthur slung it over his shoulder, pressing his hand against his back and stretching. The backpack weighed down on his shoulders, and he got the strange feeling that it was unzipped, its contents open for everyone to see, even though he knew that wasn't the case. As the year has gone on, it's gotten heavier and heavier, though the crime could be mainly blamed on the three thick hardbacks he alternated between during the rare free moments he had. Each time he finished one, it was replaced with another the next day, just as heavy but just as addicting as the last.

Without saying goodbye to those in his section- he still had never bothered to learn their names, and when he was told, he immediately forgot, Arthur stalked out of the choir room, deflating as soon as he stepped into the silent hallway. He was the first one out the door.

Normally, he wouldn't be able to wait to start his walk home, to begin those fifteen minutes where he was by himself and free, but today, he was doing something.

Something important.

Arthur slid his arm into the free strap of his backpack, the weight becoming more balanced as he turned right into another corridor. On the other side of the hallway, coming from the opposite direction, was Kiku. Arthur gave him a sarcastic sneer, a common greeting in their relationship, fully expecting one in return. What he got, however, could only be at best called a timid wince.

It was hard to believe that Kiku Honda, the one who had been a tiny needle stuck in his ass since the beginning of August, was actually cowering from him. Cowering, as if Arthur were some monster that had been waiting under his bed for months, waiting until he could see a soft white sock poke out onto the floor to grab and pull under. It was funny, really, considering the circumstances of their first meeting, how confident he was then compared to now.

And if Arthur was being serious, if he was really being serious to himself, he was curious. Of why this sudden change had happened. Not because he actually cared for Kiku- god no, he could never give a damn about such a slithery, slimy snake, but it made him wonder.

Though it was far-fetched, perhaps Alfred and Kiku were going through a patch of rocky terrain in their relationship. He remembered the way the latter shied from the former's hand back in the library, the movement being far too snappy and harsh to be a fear of touch or anything of the like. Besides, he had seen them hold hands before, like when Arthur tracked Alfred down to declare his apology- and what a disaster that had been- so a phobia was out of the question.

Of course, Arthur could be overlooking it, be digging too deep into what could be something as simple as Kiku having a bad day, but he sincerely hoped it wasn't. If they were fighting, if their string was growing taunt, then it would certainly make his plan go down much easier.

Arthur didn't bother to say anything as he walked past Kiku, the latter's pace quickening to a speed walk, not so much as sparing a single glance after his sneer. Soon, he was alone once more, the sound of his footsteps bouncing off the hallway as he strolled.

This afternoon was a gamble, as yesterday and the day before that had been. He was already gone by the time Arthur got out of Madrigal practice on Monday, and wasn't in the library yesterday after his tutoring session with Alfred. Arthur supposed he had already left, and cursed Alfred for insisting on sitting outside in the courtyard. The latter had claimed, in his very own words, "it's gonna be nice n' cool outside, and I don't wanna get stuck in a stuffy, dark library," though Arthur was sure he just wanted to sabotage him.

However frustrating, Arthur figured he couldn't enforce his hidden agenda on Alfred, no matter how much he wanted to, without risking it all. Besides, he wasn't necessarily against sitting outside- so long as it wasn't raining, he would hate for his books to be damaged- and hadn't opposed, shocking himself and most likely Alfred as well. If the way his eyes widened after Arthur nodded was any indication.

He stopped before the library doors, taking a breath. It had not changed since the last time he was here, and he knew that inside, it would be the same as it always was. Books lined in faux wood shelves, the surfaces of the later made to look like anything but particle board. The dark carpet in desperate need of a vacuum, saturated with spilled Gatorade, soft drinks, and coffee, and even if it were to be thoroughly cleaned, it would never be the same as the first day it was nailed in and stepped on. Tables with declarations of love and phone numbers scrawled and etched into it, complete with matching chairs on their last leg, only a few years from toppling under someone.

And it was the same everywhere he went. No matter how many times his mum picked up his family and moved them, no matter how many times he went from one town to another, they all stayed the same. Different layouts, different buildings, different material, sure, but they were stable. Solid.

Unlike his family, with his brothers constantly moving in and out of the house, sometimes with an irritatingly shallow girlfriend clinging to their arms, their thin fingers twirling their thick and glossy hair, mouths spouting anything to please. With his mother lacing false promises and lies around her as if they were fine jewelry and silky lace, picking one off and throwing it at him when she needed to. With his father going through different versions of himself as a doctor would with bandages, ripping one off and tossing it away, only to replace it with another one he liked better.

Libraries were safe, calm, secure, and Arthur almost hesitated as he reached for the metal handle. He would be bringing his chaos inside, dragging it in with him and pushing all those peaceful years out, and everyone would let him do it without so much of a fight, without so much of a single thought of the consequences.

Arthur thought of leaving, just dropping it until another day when he saw him in the hallway or the courtyard. So he wouldn't bring his plan and all that came with it into such a sacred place. But the damage had been done already, he supposed, and had been since the first tutoring session with Alfred.

And besides, he told himself, it was a necessary sacrifice to make.

He pulled the handle, shivering at the wave of chilly air that burst out. Another thing that had stayed consistent. Arthur wasn't sure if the librarian would suddenly decided that a heater would be necessary soon, as in a couple weeks from now at the very maximum, or in the dead of winter. If the latter, then perhaps it would be warmer outside than in the library.

Balancing his weight to quiet his footsteps, Arthur beelined for the side of the library, windows between each bookshelf displaying slivers of the empty courtyard. Clusters of four tables were surrounded by a guard of shelves, and Arthur swiftly ducked his head to the side, checking to see if anyone was there. When he found it empty, he moved on to the next, making sure to go slow and quiet.

Row by row passed, textbooks, biographies, magazines, and casual picture books behind lined behind him. Each time he came across a group of tables, he pressed himself to the side of a bookshelf, slightly leaning over to get a good look before moving on.

He got closer and closer tot he back wall, the painted concrete covered in signs with inspirational quotes that Arthur doubted anyone relevant every said. As he reached the last group of tables, prepared for failure and being forced to try it again tomorrow, Arthur saw him.

Heracles sat in the corner, a stack mixed with hardbacks, paperbacks, and magazines piling high, almost as tall as he was sitting. Arthur froze, watching as he scanned down one page, stopping to scribble a quick note down in the lined notebook next to him, before flipping to the next. A speed reader, then. How wasteful, skimming over paragraphs, when the author spent hours hunched over each one, barely taking note of what the sentences contained. Whereas Arthur took his sweet time, reading each word and processing it with care, rereading pieces of dialogue to see what he could add to his analysis of each and every character. It made him think, made him wonder what type of reader he-

Arthur shook his head, forcing the thought away. It was unnecessary, he didn't need that type of information nor would he ever. He rolled his shoulders back, the weight of his backpack making it more shallow than he would've preferred. He hadn't been noticed yet, and if he kept quiet, probably wouldn't be, which game him a decent amount of time to prepare.

Arthur thought of what he was going to say, or at the very least how he was going to begin the lengthy conversation they were going to have, and how he was going to deliver it in such a way that didn't make him seem or look desperate.

Pushing some wisps of hair out of his face and taking in and letting out a deep breath, Arthur strolled to the table, his stride long but casual. He slid into the closet chair, dropping his backpack haphazardly into the one next to it. Arthur's books knocked against the wood of the table, which he would normally wince at and immediately move to check their health, but he ignored it- not without a fair share of pain, however- in favor of focusing on Heracles.

The latter snapped his head up in surprise, his fingers tightening around the edges of his current book. From the confusion on his face, his brow furrowed, eyes narrowed, and mouth just a little bit gaped, Arthur could tell that he had no idea who he was. Good. Very good.

Arthur smirked, propping his cheek on the palm of his hand. "Heracles Karpusi?" The mentioned nodded, slowly closing his book shut, not before shoving an colored and scribbled on index card in the middle, setting it on the very top of the stack.

Heracles pursed his lips into a fine line, shaking his messy hair out of his face. He rolled his shoulders back, taking in a deep breath, letting it out through his mouth. "Yes, and who're you?"

Arthur scoffed, shaking his head and waving his hand in dismissal. In this situation, it wasn't necessary to know, and if Kiku had mentioned him before, then it could put everything at jeopardy. So, at the moment, "That's not important."

Heracles deadpanned, though Arthur could see his eye lightly twitch in annoyance, just barely noticeable. The latter's smirk, which had appeared around the time he had taken the opportunity to seat himself, grew lazy and half-assed.

Making a show of himself, Arthur perked up in his chair, looking around for anyone that could be eavesdropping or just be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Of course, he knew that the library was empty, had practically taken a tour of it, except for the two of them, and had made sure of it, but it was always nice to double check. If any of their conversation were to get out, even just a little snippet of the more important words, then it would be a major pain in the ass for the both of them. Especially for Arthur.

Especially for Arthur.

Smacking his hand against his back pocket, just to make sure it was there, Arthur pulled out a pack of gum, offering a stick to Heracles. It was the product of a late night stop at the gas station earlier this week, his father needing to fill up his tank and Arthur wanting to get out of the house for at least five minutes. He had been chewing it sparingly, having only about a stick a day, but he had made the mistake of letting Vlad get an eyeful during one lunch period. Now, the contents had quickly diminished, and Arthur only had about a row and a half left.

Heracles shook his head, raising his hand as Arthur tried to hand it to him. The latter shrugged, unwrapping it and popping it into his mouth. It crackled and snapped in his mouth, the minty taste almost making him wince.

"So, Heracles." He chewed out a tough spot in the gum, running his tongue over the top row of his teeth.

Heracles raised an eyebrow, still looking as if a million piece puzzle had just been set in front of him, no paper with any directions in sight. He opened his mouth to speak, only for Arthur to quickly cut him off.

"How much do you love him?" Quick and blunt, he decided not to mention the word "crush" to him, lest he get angry, denying their relationship to be such a short, trivial thing, and walk away.

Heracles paled, or as much as his olive skin would allow, his shoulders tensing up and his jaw clenching. As he spoke, he stuttered, his normally lethargic demeanor turned into something rushed. Panicked. "I have no idea what you're talkin' about."

Arthur's smirk turned smug, and he leaned closer, his stomach pressing up against the table. "Now, that little reaction of yours tells me that yes, you do know what I'm talking about. You know exactly who I'm talking about." Arthur lifted his head, studying his fingernails for dirt and places to file down. "How long?"

Heracles shook his head, pushing his chair back. This time, he had his backpack with him, a black cargo pack with two large pockets buttoned closed on the front, and slung it over his shoulder. Arthur noticed with not a lack of mirth that there were multiple cat charms chained to it. How cute.

Fully expecting this kind of reaction from him, Arthur sat there, watching as he picked up the entire stack of books with ease, along with his still-open notebook, balancing it on one arm. Not even a single one wiggled.

As he began to walk away, his pace slow as to not harm the stack, Arthur studied the lines and grooves of the table, not even sparing him a glance as he spoke. "Do you know how easy it would be for your little secret to get out?" From the corner of his eye, he saw Heracles freeze, and knew then that he had won. "You aren't exactly subtle, to be quite honest. Someone would just have to point it out, give Alfred and his little band a small push, and then everyone would know about it."

Heracles stepped up to the table, his hips pressing against the edge. He was tall, much taller than Arthur, and considering the way he was carrying those books as if they were rag dolls, much stronger than him as well.

Then again, he didn't look angry per sé, but someone had once thrown a swing at Arthur while smiling without a care in the world, so he wasn't taking any chances. Just in case, Arthur situated his arm a bit closer to the other and leaned away from him. At least that would give him a little bit of time to block.

Instead of going in for the punch, like Arthur anticipated- and he would've punched back, too, considering how long it had been since he had last gotten into a fight- Heracles raised an eyebrow, cocking his head to the side. Waiting.

Arthur motioned his hand to the other side of the table, specifically the chair that Heracles had been sitting in before. The latter glanced at it, before returning his attention to Arthur. Taking in a sharp breath, he motioned again for him to sit in the chair, giving him a smile filled with sarcasm when the fool actually did.

When Heracles spoke, his voice had returned to its default quietness and slow pace, though Arthur could hear it shake. Out of fear, wary, or a bit of both, he couldn't tell, and if he were to be honest, he didn't really care. "What do ya want."

Arthur propped his feet up on the chair next to him, his right foot resting against his backpack, and he hoped he wouldn't fall. Cool and nonchalant, that was his act for the afternoon, and if he were to mess that up, it would be… embarrassing, to say the very least.

He shrugged, smiling as if he were in a daze, throwing his hands up in the air. "I just want to help you."

Heracles deadpanned, slowly blinking. He crossed his arms, leaning back in his chair as much as his backpack- which he had not yet taken off, even while sitting in a chair, a petpeeve of Arthur's that made his eye twitch- would allow him. "You were the one who just said that you were willin' to out me to Alfred." He said his name with a sneer, several teeth showing. Arthur noticed that there was a small gap between his canine and incisor. Adorable.

Arthur made himself look offended, breaking years of habit to raise his chest and shoulders as he breathed, putting his hand to his collar bone, his index finger pressing into his neck. He furrowed his brow, slowly shaking his head, his mouth gaping.

Heracles didn't seem impressed with his performance, his jaw tense, and he looked displeased when Arthur spoke, the latter's voice breathy and his words slow. His reaction to it was unfortunate, really, considering that he had picked this straight out of his mother's catalog of acts. "I didn't say that I was going to _out_ you, I simply said that I would nudge them in the direction. I'm sure they're smart enough to figure it out themselves."

Even with as dramatic as he was being, and how much he was currently reminding himself of his mother, Arthur couldn't deny the fact that he was having fun with this. Pure, unbridled fun. Even when he knew that Heracles was feeling the exact opposite. Especially because of that.

Heracles huffed, slumping in his chair. "That's the exact same thing."

"No, they're very much different."

A frown. "I doubt that."

Arthur shrugged, dropping his act, pursing his lips into a fine line. "If that's what you want to think."

The two fell silent for a while, Arthur's more intentional than the other's. He tapped his fingers against the table, nodding his head slowly. Occasionally, he sent a glance towards Heracles' direction, making sure it was noticed, measuring if and when he was about to crack. Eventually, after about a couple minutes, Arthur got what he wanted.

Heracles threw his hands up, muttering something under his breath. It was too quick for Arthur to hear even a single word, but he was sure that it was nothing that he particularly wanted to hear. Either that, or an exclamation of impatience, which he sincerely doubted. "Fine. How are you gonna help me?"

Arthur smirked, picking at the skin surrounding one of his fingernails. This was the moment of truth. When everything that Arthur had been working for these past two months would come to fruit. And he wouldn't take no for an answer.

Despite the significant importance of this, of this very sentence he was about to say, Arthur said it as if it were nothing, simply a statement of the weather that morning or what they had for lunch at school. He didn't even glance at Heracles as he spoke. "What if I were to tell you that there is a great possibility that Kiku could love you back?"

The atmosphere surrounding the table tensed, a great secret finally revealed to the light of the world. Heracles stared at Arthur, his eyes as wide as saucers, the color leeching from his cheeks. He opened his mouth to speak, but then clamped it shut, pursing it into a fine line. His face blanked, and at the moment, Arthur's confidence in the success of the afternoon faltered the tiniest bit.

Heracles stood, gently setting the stack of books on the table, and pushing his chair in. He rolled his shoulders back, along with his neck, and walked away, grabbing his notebook before hand.

Arthur's smirk fell, turning into more of a half-assed sneer, and he signed, deflating. That certainly went the way he was expecting it to go.

Heracles left his stack of books, most likely figuring that a librarian would pick them up the next day. How rude of him, to put that much more work on them when they already had such stressful and taxing jobs.

Arthur had to admit, however, that he was curious, and reached for the first book on the very top, the one he had been reading when Arthur had first initiated their conversation. He pulled it over to him, scanning the cover. If only because he was curious of what such a disrespectful brat could possibly be reading.

And at the very top, above a picture of a sculpted bust that had certainly seen better days, in platinum colored letters over a soft blue, read, "Greek Mythology: Battles of Will, Jealously, and Punishment". Arthur couldn't help but snort at that, dropping it haphazardly onto the table.

What a damn coincidence.

* * *

Vlad shivered as they stepped out into the courtyard, running his hands up and down his arms. October was in full fling, summer having been long ushered out by fall. Dead leaves crunched under their feet, covering the concrete ground and empty tables.

Arthur eyed their usual table, which sat against one of the concrete walls of the pit in all its worn and black beauty. It sat under a tree, one that had already lost most of its foliage, only bits of its magnificent metal top visible. Vlad noticed him staring, and gave him a sympathetic look, seeming equally miserable, even though their torture had yet to even begin.

No matter how much he wanted to, how much he yearned to, they would not be sitting at their table today. No, for they were being forced to sit with Mathias and all of his friends.

They had told Lukas that he could go by himself, that he didn't have to have him and Vlad intruding and ruining their fun, only for Lukas to deny it. Arthur brought it up again, perhaps for the fifth time, only for Lukas to shake his head.

"I don't wanna leave y'all alone."

Arthur tsked. "But we'll be interrupting-"

"Not at all, Mathias said that I could bring you two if I wanted. And I want to."

From the corner of his eye, he could see Vlad deflate, though Lukas didn't seem to notice. Normally, Arthur would be supportive of this type of thing, and would go in without a complaint but with watchful eyes and a prepared defense, but this was different. Very different.

The table was a hostile zone, the Montagues to their Capulets, with his dear friend unknowingly caught in the middle of it. It was a silent battle, his side the only ones in the dark. And they would be right in the thick of enemy territory. It was unfortunate, really, but Arthur had no choice but to go along with it and smile and nod his head at all the right times and places.

It was all he really could do, if he wanted to keep up the persona that he had so carefully and painstakingly crafted around his friends, and Arthur could only hope that the others weren't cruel enough to send it all tumbling down. Not that they would even care, he supposed.

As they quickly descended the concrete stairs into the pit, Mathias caught sight of Lukas, waving to him with an elated smile spread across his face. And though Mathias was focused on his boyfriend and only on him, everyone else at the table turned their heads towards Vlad and Arthur, a few looking between the two with unfamiliarity, the others glaring at the latter. Either way, their eyes were sharp as knives and their faces as cold as ice.

Arthur ignored them, however, keeping his chin up and facial expression pleasant, even when he oh-so desperately wanted to scowl and sneer. He couldn't, though, he wouldn't, not when they expected him to. Not when they were counting on him to.

"Lukas~!" Mathias hopped up from the bench, almost tripping as his foot was caught on the edges, but quickly recovered, running up and pulling Lukas into a hug. He was fast, really fast, to have crossed the pit so quickly, but Arthur figured that with his record of being on the football team, that was a given.

Lukas giggled as Mathias whispered into his ear, putting his hand on the latter's chest. Arthur was suddenly reminded of how sickening the two were when they were with each other, and it baffled him that even though they had been dating for about a month now, they had still not left their honeymoon phase. At this point, he doubted that they ever would. At least not any time in the foreseeable century.

Grumbling when Mathias pulled away, Lukas turned back toward Arthur and Vlad, his smile sweet and serene. He motioned to Mathias with his free hand, the other still on his chest. The two looked like a middle class couple standing in front of their suburban home, their brand new, shiny minivan parked behind them. Disgusting. "Guys, y'all remember Mathias."

Mathias smiled, giving the two a short and light wave. Arthur stayed silent, simply giving him a nod of acknowledgment, letting Vlad do the work.

The latter cocked his hip and head to the side, his signature smile already spreading across his face. Vlad crossed his arms, seeming smug. "Oh, trust me. We remember Mathias. He's all ya talk about."

Lukas blushed as Mathias' eyes widened, his smile growing wider. By then, the latter had moved his hand to Lukas' lower back- or at least, Arthur hoped that that was where it was- and tugged him towards him. "Aw~ babe, you talk about me?"

The rosy pink on Lukas' cheeks turned into more of a cherry red, and Arthur had to fight to hold back a gag. Vlad choked, moving his hand to cover his mouth, the other one twitching, as if it was ready to join.

Lukas opened his mouth to say something, which would probably be something equally or even more mush than what Mathias had cooed at him, only to be- thankfully, for once- cut off by Alfred.

"Ay! Mathias! Quit yer chit-chattin' and get yer ass over here!"

Mathias froze, his ever shining and strong smile faltering just a tiny bit, but enough to be easily noticed. It was quickly back up again, however, even stronger this time, and if Arthur hadn't noticed it at the exact moment the mess up had happened, he wouldn't have realized it.

Sending the three of them a quick, apologetic look- for what, Arthur guessed he would never find out- Mathias turned, strolling towards the table, Lukas on his heels. He waved for them to follow. "Sorry, sorry, sorry."

A few faces at the table were easily recognizable, such as Antonio and Mr. Vargas' grandson, whose name had already escaped him. Arthur supposed that he might've seen the others in the hallway once or twice, but could never bring up the memory. They all certainly seemed to know him, however, as they glared at him with mixed amounts of venom, one looking a bit more default than the others.

It made Arthur wonder if Mathias visiting them for lunch a couple weeks ago was more of a scouting mission than anything. To see what he would do in their presence, to see if Arthur would attack him with his friends sitting next to him. It made Arthur grit his teeth, to think that they could be using Lukas to get closer to him.

Thankfully, Mathias chose to sit at the end of the table, far away from Alfred and the little snake clinging to him. Maybe the two had decided to provide a unified front today in the face of their greatest enemy, show that yes, their relationship may be crumbling into little bitty pieces- at least, it looked that way- but oh boy, could they pretend the opposite. Pretend a unified, strong, loving front.

It made Arthur feel sorry for them, in a way, but he quickly reminded himself that they deserved everything they got, and everything they will get.

The four stopped at the end of the table, Mathias taking a few steps back so everyone could get a good look at them. In a way similar to the time of his confession, Lukas seemed to shrink into himself a little bit, though this time it seemed more of a nervous habit than anything.

"Guys." Mathias smiled, his layers of freckles scrunching on top of each other. "This is Lukas."

A boy Arthur didn't know, one with fair white hair and tinted sunglasses, gave Mathias a toothy smirk. "Lukas, as in the main one, or Lukas the side dude?"

Alfred's eyes widened and his mouth gaped, looking at the one who spoke with pure horror laced in his voice. "Oh my god, Gilbert. Stop. Don't."

Gilbert's smirk turned into more of an ashamed frown, and he reached for his bottle- gray metal with a red top, grumbling behind it before taking a swig. "So, I guess that joke stopped being funny."

Mathias' smile was tense, and he took in a sharp breath, letting it out through his nose before he spoke. "Yes, it stopped being funny months ago. Months. Ago."

Gilbert blushed, looking down. "Sorry 'bout that."

"Thank you."

Arthur watched their exchange, trying his best to keep in a snicker. What came out was more of a choking sound, and Vlad looked at him, a knowing smile on his face. The latter covered his face, his thumb digging into his cheek, as if he were trying to keep his own laughter from falling out.

Remember who the particular joke was at the expense of, Arthur slightly leaned forward, looking across Vlad and to Lukas. He was frowning, the blush from before faded from his cheeks. Arthur would've thought that he had not understood the joke, would've believed it, until he noticed that his lips were slightly pursed.

"Anyway." Mathias' cheery smile was back up, though he flashed a quick warning look to those at the table. A possible threat, should they choose to make anymore jokes without thinking them out thoroughly beforehand. "This is Vlad…" He trailed off, wincing.

Vlad smiled, nodding his head. "Vlad Popescu."

Mathias frowned, his eyebrows scrunching. He bopped his head side to side, pursing his lips into a fine line. "Yeah… I'm not even gonna try to say that."

The table laughed, some louder than others, while Mr. Vargas' grandson just rolled his eyes. Arthur noticed a fault in his act, however, as there was a small, tiny smirk on his face.

Mathias chuckled along with the group, softly shaking his head. Alfred, followed by a few others, tried to pronounce Vlad's last name with varying levels of accuracy, Vlad watching them with an amused smile.

Arthur thought that he was perhaps the only one who noticed that Mathias' smile and laughter had faded, his lips pursed into a fine line.

"And this, uh." He rubbed the back of his neck, adjusting his feet, looking at Arthur as if he was going to reach out and bite his head off. As if he were the boogie monster, searching for more high schoolers to chew and munch on. When Mathias spoke, he did so quickly, in a rushed way, trying to get the words out of his mouth as fast as possible. "And this is Arthur Kirkland."

The laughter at the table was shot, everyone silent. The mood soured, the elephant in the room suddenly remembered, the silent problem that they had been desperately trying to ignore.

In a playful, fun manner, one that was unusual for him, Arthur stuck his tongue out at them, bopping his head side to side. He ignored the sneers he received in return.

Vlad snickered, though seemed a bit confused, shaking his head at Arthur's antics, while Lukas' silent brooding had broken into a small chuckle. Arthur smiled, pretending that being bubbly and cheerful was his default mood, even if he was feeling almost the exact opposite. Smile and nod, he told himself, be the person they didn't expect him to be.

Eyes wide, brow shot up, Mathias nodded before motioning to the bench. Vlad and Arthur crowded onto the bench, Lukas making a last-second decision to move to the other side. Arthur made sure to sit at the very edge, so he could easily slide out in need of a quick escape.

Mathias perked up, making a small, "oh", sound, standing again. He chuckled breathlessly, rubbing the back of his neck. A habit, maybe. "Forgot to introduce everybody to y'all." He cleared his throat as Arthur and his friends leaned forward, examining those at the table just as they did them. Lukas and Vlad with a bit more curiosity and much less hate than Arthur.

Mathias nodded his head to each person as he said their name, each one giving a small motion of acknowledgment in return. "Uh… I'll go in order." He began with his row, starting at the very end. "Alfred F. Jones, Kiku Honda, Ivan Braginsky, and me, of course." The third of the mentioned, Ivan, smiled, while Alfred gave a half-assed grin. Kiku only deadpanned. Mathias turned his head to the bench on the other side, where Vlad and Arthur were sitting, doing the same type of introduction as he did previously. "Y'all've already met Gilbert Beilschmidt, then there's Antonio Fernández Carriedo, and Lovino Vargas- Mr. Vargas' oldest grandson. There's also Francis, but he's been out for the week."

Lovino frowned at his own introduction, seeming displeased to have been associated with his grandfather. It must've been a regular thing, Arthur figured, for him to be so against it.

Alfred sniffled, crunching his face up as if he were trying to summon fake tears. He smacked his hands together the way someone would if they were deep in prayer, shaking them once or twice. When he spoke, his voice was laced with faux sadness. "We've lost our boy Francis to the flu."

The table burst into laughter, Mathias yelling, "Rip Francis". Arthur cringed as they earned several looks from the surrounding tables, some frowning and others rolling their eyes and returning to their lunch.

Gilbert, who had stayed silent during the entire exchange, was frowning as well. He pushed his sunglasses up the bridge of his nose, clearing his throat. He seemed to have recovered- if only a little bit- after his failure at humor, feeling enough confidence to speak again. "So, uh, how have y'all been settlin' into yer new relationship?"

The conversation launched off at that, with Mathias and Lukas raving about each other and their date together. And though he had heard both sides in a total of around a million times, Arthur smiled through it, laughing at all the parts he was supposed to, along with everyone else.

Mathias and Lukas exchanged sickening smiles as they talked, Arthur having to occasionally shove down a gag and Vlad failing to.

Arthur sometimes found himself leaning down to look at the others at the table, measuring their reactions to certain parts. At any time Arthur was mentioned, Alfred winced the tiniest bit, hiding it behind Kiku's hair. The latter tensed each time, swallowing hard, but relaxed and smiled a few moments later, giving a few loving glances in Alfred's direction.

He was sure that he was the only one who could tell it was fake. Their movements were too tense, too robotic, as if they were only doing it because they were expected to. As if everyone figured and knew that they were going to do it, and would raise questions should they not go along.

And he had to admit to himself, though not verbally to any one else, that it was amusing and relieving to see it.

He looked away, knowing that if he stared for any longer he would be caught. As he turned his gaze to the left, Antonio- he already had to see his neighbor at least once a day, for god's sake-glared daggers at him, a scowl etched on his face. Arthur smiled in response, bright and kind, and returned his attention back to the conversation at hand. He smirked when he heard Antonio quickly mutter something under his breath, something that anyone else would cringe at.

Perhaps Antonio should consider leaving his boyfriend to use that type of act, Arthur thought. It wasn't doing much good for him.

Arthur perked up when Mathias and Lukas fell silent, just staring at each other with wonder and awe. Arthur was almost tempted to pull out his phone and look up how long the honeymoon phase of a relationship was supposed to last, but decided not too, if only because he didn't want to drain his phone battery thinking about something so stupid.

The conversation had fallen flat, with everyone looking around, trying to think of a new topic. Occasionally, someone would open their mouth, prepared to say something, only to close it, a dejected look spreading across their face. The whole situation at hand was terribly awkward, and Arthur wanted nothing more than to slide out of the bench and walk away, off to somewhere quiet. Maybe the library.

After what seemed like ten minutes, like ten years, Vlad perked up, his eyes wide and a full-fledged smile twisting his mouth. So~. He looked around the table, giving each person a glance before moving on. "What're our plans for Halloween?"

Arthur groaned. He had completely forgotten about the holiday a little more than a week away, a while he didn't do anything, at the most leaving his house until the wee hours of the morning, he knew that this year wouldn't be the same case.

For the first time since their lunch session had began, Alfred's eyes widened, a bright, wonder-filled smile displaying straight white teeth on his face. He took in a sharp breath, shallowly waving his hands. "Oh my god. I _love_ Halloween! There was this one time in middle school where Kiku came over to my house and we toilet-papered Mattie's- oh, that's my twin brother, by the way- room and it was hil-ar-i-ous! Kiku, ya remember that?" Alfred smile at his boyfriend, who only nodded back. Seemingly deeming his response valid, Alfred, laughing as if he were a child in a candy store, put his hands behind his head and leaned back. "Ah, man. Y'all should've seen Mattie when he walked into his room. From the way his hands were twitchin', you could definitely tell he was gonna strangle me!"

Arthur laughed along with the rest of the table, not entirely seeing the humor in his story, Alfred pulling Kiku close as he joined in. The latter seemed uncomfortable in their new position, pushing his shoulders up and bracing his hands on the edge of the table. Alfred didn't seem to notice, and if he did, his laughter didn't fade, nor did his smile falter. Not even the teeniest bit.

Either these two were always like this, even at the very start, or Alfred F. Jones was one of the greatest actors Arthur had ever seen.

Mathias nodded his head as he chuckled, taking in a shallow breath when he calmed down. He shook his head before turning to Lukas. "Are you guys doin' anythin'? For Halloween?"

Just as Arthur was about to open his mouth, to deny that they had plans, Vlad swiftly cut him off, nodding enthusiastically. "We're gonna go trick-or-treatin in my neighborhood. There's this old lady a couple blocks down from my house who gives out some big-ass chocolate bars every year."

Arthur groaned, just thinking of all the chocolate he was going to be getting. American chocolate that made him want to puke his guts up. A few people turned his way, but he ignored them, instead favoring on reminiscing on his British sweets that he had been forced to abandon.

Maltesers, Cadbury Eggs, Smarties- the chocolate ones, not the American flavored cocaine. All of the delicious candies that he had to leave back in the UK, his mother not allowing him to take even on a small bag on the plan with him or pack one in his suitcase. As if she genuinely believed it would be the same here.

And now, here he was, stuck in a country whose chocolate would only appease those who had never tasted their superior British counterparts. It was a shame, really, that they would never be able to taste what he loved and adored so dearly.

Clearing his throat, he looked to Vlad, who was staring at him with a raise eyebrow. Arthur tried his best to look confused as he spoke, raising the tone of his voice. "Wait. We are?"

Vlad nodded shallowly, Lukas staring at Arthur as if he had just said the stupidest thing possible. "Yeah, man, we always go over to my place."

Arthur deadpanned, cocking his head to the side. "I've never even stepped foot into your house."

Vlad perked up, his eyes widening. "Right~. That's right." He nodded as if he knew it all along, Arthur having to hold in a snort.

The table fell silent for about fifteen seconds, until Mathias perked up, his smile bright. "I know what we could do!" Everyone looked towards him, their faces revealing varying amounts of interest. Lukas smiled, face serene, the ever doting boyfriend. Perhaps Kiku should take notes. "We could all meet each other and go out of Halloween together!"

Arthur opened his mouth, along with a few others, to object, but was quickly cut off by Vlad, who straightened his back, rolling his shoulders. The latter smiled, one that almost rivaled Mathias', before yelling at the same pitch, "Oh my god! That sounds like a fantastic idea!"

Arthur groaned, along with Lovino, the latter rolling his eyes. There were a few quiet complaints from the others, Ivan deadpanning, and from the corner of his eye, Arthur could see Kiku the Snake start to deflate a bit.

Nodding enthusiastically, Lukas grinned. "That sounds like a wonderful idea."

The three began to talk, making plans that the others would no doubt be forced to participate in. With the actual holiday being a not too far away, Arthur didn't have much time to prepare himself for the night of hell, a memory that he would no doubt shut out of his mind afterward.

Leaving them to talk, with his eyebrows raised in an interested expression, Alfred leaned forward, hunching over the table. Arthur rolled his shoulders back, forcing a lazy smile over his face, rolling over possible answers to Alfred's question as he spoke. "So, Arthur, how long have you been in the States?"

Swallowing down a snort, Arthur bopped his head side to side, looking off, pretending that he actually had to think about it. He shrugged, clicking his tongue. "Oh, late July, maybe."

Alfred nodded, seeming satisfied with Arthur's answer. "How do y'all celebrate Halloween in England?"

Arthur sighed at the question, not entirely expecting it. His family had never been too big on it, nor anyone in his neighborhood, his mother claiming it an excuse for Arthur to terrify young children. Nevermind that it Dylan and William were the ones doing such a thing, with Allistor and George cheering them on. But Arthur had always been blamed for everything, from putting worms in Peter's wellies to shredding one of his father's proposition letters. There wasn't anything that he hadn't done in his parents' eyes.

Not that he really cared anymore. Arthur had long stopped trying to convince him that it wasn't him who committed the crime, his resolve crumbled after falling on deaf ears more times than he could count.

He shrugged, curling his lip and furrowing his brow. "We don't really do anything. I mean, some younger kids go out, but that's about it."

Those who were listening nodded, Alfred seeming a bit disappointed. Arthur had to hold in a scoff, just barely doing so, pursing his lips into a fine line. He was just about to open his mouth, about to ask what was wrong and what had them acting like their puppy was brutally murdered, when Antonio- Antonio, of all people- cut him off.

"Speaking of moving in, how did your family enjoy the Tarta De Santiago? Y'know, the almond cake that my mother spent hours preparing and making?" Arthur could taste the venom from his voice.

Arthur took in a sharp breath, giving a smile that mirrored Antonio's. He had almost forgotten about that, which was a shame, since now that he thought about it, that moment was probably one of the highlights of his year. Relaxing, leaning back, with his smile turning nonchalant, he waved Antonio's silent accusation away. "It was wonderful. It really… _hit_ the spot."

He knew enough of basic Spanish to know that what Antonio cursed at him wasn't anything pleasant. In a quick, brutal succession of words, all the conversation at the table ceased, everyone silent and watching. How dramatic.

Arthur quickly put his hand over his mouth, his eyes widening. He tried his best to make himself look shocked. Distressed. Ever the victim who did nothing but respond to a simple question, only to be attacked for it.

Vlad straightened his back, glancing at Arthur as Lukas hopped up from his bench and quickly stepped over to them. He turned towards the end of the table, his expression wary and concerned. "Is everything alright here?"

Keeping up his act, if only because he was curious of what would happen if he were to go along, Arthur leaned back and to the side, whispering to his friends in a hushed and frantic tone, forcing a couple stutters along the way. "Guys- I don't think that I'm wanted. Here, I mean."

He was quiet enough that while Lukas and Vlad would be the only ones able to hear him, the others would definitely be able to hear the hushed sound of whispers. Arthur made a quick glance up, reveling in the pure wrath slathered across Antonio's face and the irritated ones near him. It was hard, so, so hard, not to break into a smug smirk.

Lukas frowned, shaking his head, wringing his fingers. He let out a shallow breath, slumping forward, leaning in as Vlad turned around. "No, Arthur. Of course you're welcomed. Maybe-" Lukas sat up, sending a short glance in Antonio's direction, who was still seething, before turning back to Arthur and Vlad. "Maybe Antonio's just having a bad day. Mathias said that he's usually sunny and sweet."

Arthur doubted that, instead thinking that Antonio had a bad day when he had to see Arthur, a daily occurrence, but decided to go along. He looked at the ground, wiggling one of his shoes- Converse, as he had been encouraged to try them out- and nodded timidly.

Even though he wasn't even that deep into his little game, he could feel the rage radiating from Vlad. Arthur quickly turned around, seeing his friend's jaw clenched, his fingers flexing. He tried to hide it, but Arthur was close enough that he would have been blind not to have seen it.

If Lukas noticed it, he didn't show it, not even a twitch of the eye. Instead, he was focusing on Arthur, his concern growing more and more. Arthur had to hold in a snort, if only to keep his act up.

Vlad's mood softened, if only a little bit, and he said with a sympathetic wince, "Maybe we should go…"

Lukas looked up at Vlad with no small amount of shock, before turning to Mathias. The latter winced, shrugging his shoulders, looking unsure about what had just happened. It was almost as if he had expected Arthur to lash out back at Antonio, to hit with just as much, if not more, wrath as he received.

Interesting.

Deflating, Lukas sighed and shook his head. He stood, leaning over the table to whisper into Mathias' ear, and when the latter nodded, kissed him on the cheek.

Vlad put his hand on Arthur's shoulder, giving him a tight squeeze. Sensing that they were- finally- about to leave, Arthur stood from the bench, hanging his head and slouching his shoulders.

"Um, we had fun." Lukas gave everyone at the table, save for Antonio, a small, forced smile, nodding his head. "Maybe we should do this again." Unlikely, but Arthur figured he was just trying to be polite.

Where Arthur expected Mathias to be the one to respond, Alfred perked up, smiling and nodding his head enthusiastically. "We definitely should! I'm lookin' forward to it!" As he finished, he sent a quick glance to Arthur, and the latter could've sworn he saw his smile falter. "Y'all have a good day."

Vlad's hand moved from Arthur's shoulder to his upper back, rubbing it in a circular motion. After grabbing their backpacks, softly groaning at the weight, Lukas caught up to them, sorting between which one belonged to who.

As Arthur slung his over his shoulders, he clenched the straps, his knuckles turning white. Details, details were what made it convincible, made the act into something real.

As they walked away, though, heading to their own usual table on the other side of the pit, Arthur couldn't help it. He turned, looking straight at the one they had just departed from, its occupants staring back. Antonio was still seething, Kiku simply giving a disinterested sneer. What was the most surprising was Alfred, whose smile had watered down into more of a wince, his brow furrowed. He actually looked worried.

But that all changed, their expression turning into ones of shock when Arthur, just for them, broke his act into little piece. Making sure that his friends wouldn't notice, he smirked, a smug little thing that even his mother would be proud of, sticking his tongue out and wiggling it side to side.

If he were to recount this lunch period ever again, then Arthur wouldn't be exaggerating when he would say that Antonio's howling could be heard throughout the courtyard.

* * *

FYI, just writing those few paragraphs about chocolate in the US was painful to my American soul. Ghirardelli is some pretty good stuff.

I've realized that I mention Arthur's older brothers without anyone actually knowing who they're supposed to be. Allistor is Scotland, William is Wales, Dylan is Ireland, and George is Northern Ireland. And, of course, Peter is Sealand. It's really weird when people write Wales, N. Ireland, and Scotland as England's brothers without including Ireland? That just really gets to me? I mean, I know Hima listed those three as his brothers, but it just feels… weird. So Arthur will have four older brothers in pretty much all of my fics.

Also, thank you thank you thank you to all those who participated in my survey for chapters 1-10! It was really nice to read what y'all had to say about what you liked and what I could improve on. While you may not think so, it helped a lot! Arthur is, of course, the favorite character, but I was also surprised to see Vlad show up a lot. Really, I'm just making my portrayal of Vlad as I go along, cause I've never really focused on Aph Romania, so it's nice to see that everyone's liking him so far. The least favorite character is a mix of Arthur's mother and Kiku, which is definitely what I'm going for.

Once again, for those who participated, thank you so much! I'll have another one for chapters 11-20 cause oh my god, it helped so much. I'll be surprised if Cross Life doesn't reach chapter 35, cause we're not even halfway through yet. The chapter for Arthur's plan will be in the next couple months or so (and I'm really nervous about it), cause I want it to happen by the end of the first semester.

Thank you for those who wished me good luck with school, as you can see from my late update time (one whole month, yuck), it's already bearing down on me. I honestly did not expect this much homework, but what can you do :P. I'll try to update as soon as I can, which will probably mean I'll be a two weeks off at the most, but just know that I'm constantly working. I won't discontinue this, cause honestly, Cross Life is my entire life right now. I constantly think about it.

Finally, I really wanna write Gilbert realistically and without using stereotypes (I've done a lot a research just for his short appearance in this chapter) so if I ever accidentally write anything offensive, please tell me. You would not believe how many tabs are open on my computer for research. Gilbert will be showing up more and more as the story goes on, because I love his character so much

Sorry for such a long note! I ramble too much. Anyways, thank you so much for reading Cross Life Chapter Eleven: Line Walking, and I hope to see you all soon! The next chapter will take place on Halloween, so I'm really excited about that. Have a fantastic morning, day, and evening!


	12. Roam Home

I do not own The Count or Sesame Street, Dexter, Death Note (The white version nor the Japanese version), The Office (both versions), Krabby Patties, or York Peppermint Patties.

* * *

Vlad's house during the Halloween season was exactly what Arthur expected from his friend, in all its stereotypical straight-from-a-Hollywood-movie glory. Skillfully carved pumpkins depicting bats, headless horsemen, and spooky faces sat outside on the edge of the porch, bright and inviting to all those who dared approach. From inside, Arthur could see the cobwebs wrapped around the large tree dominating the front yard, a poor plastic dummy hanging from one of its branches. Every once in a while, a faint shriek notified- and sent them into fits of laughter- them that someone had fallen prey to the dummy's wails and shrieks of pain.

Pushing himself from the window, the black plush rug squishing under his socks, Arthur wiggled his toes as he stopped in front of the vanity. Sparkly, felt bats hung from the edges, smug smirks and slanted eyebrows painted on each. Lukas flicked a particularly troublesome one away, huffing as he returned to applying his eyeliner.

"Arthur. Here." Swirling the liquid in the plastic measuring cup, Vlad held it out to him. "Use as much as ya want."

Arthur grabbed the handle, feeling Vlad's fingers slip from under his own, putting his free hand at the bottom. The fake blood was thick and goopy, staining the sides of the cup, the red growing darker and dark towards the middle.

Pulling a stool up, one with black velvet and gold tassels hanging from the edge of the seat- one that fit Vlad so well it wasn't even worth a small tease about it- Arthur scooted in until the wood dug into his lower stomach. He sat up, setting the cup down before rolling his shoulders and squeezing the back of his neck.

The counter was covered in an assorted amount of cosmetics, from eyeliners to paints to pastes and blenders, all of which were products of their ransacking through their mothers' personal makeup bags and kits. A white powder-pale enough to make the wearer seem as if they had just risen from the grave- sat open near the mirror, piles of dust unevenly surrounding it. A stick of lipstick- one that Arthur hoped his mother wasn't planning on using in the near future, or at all, preferably- lay open on its side, its cap long dropped to some dark place on the floor. An emptied package of cheap blenders was crumbled up near the edge of the vanity, its former contents piled and haphazardly thrown on top. Their setup was, without a single doubt, a mess.

Grabbing the little flat wooden applicator stick, Arthur dipped it into the cup, swirling it around to mix up the blood. Originally, he had thought it to be more of a meat stew consistency, but actually messing with it proved it to be more like maple syrup. He hoped it wouldn't feel as sticky, and would be easier to wash off than he feared.

Arthur winced as he applied it to his face, the stick brushing up against his cheek. It was warm, but not to the point where he had to flinch away each time he went to apply more. He slapped healthy amounts onto his chin and the corner of his mouth, only stopping when he had hit a dead end. "Would I die if this were to get in my mouth?"

Vlad froze, Lukas glancing over in Arthur's direction for a split second, only to then return to his own project. Pulling over the package, Vlad flipped it to the back, leaning in and squinting. He read it with the intensity of a cat finding its prey, occasionally mouthing out a word. "Uh… 'This product is…' Yeah, it's edible. You're good."

Arthur dipped the stick in the goo, nodding at Vlad's words. He smeared it over his teeth and lips, almost gagging at the chemically taste. Washed-out red stained pearly white, making Arthur cringe as he flashed a shapeless smile at the mirror. Arthur continued his work even as Vlad turned around, his eyes wide.

"Woah, so you're goin' for the blood slurper look?" He jerked his hand up and down as he spoke, making a drinking motion. "That's pretty cool!"

Arthur nodded, satisfied with his friend's compliment, while Lukas only groaned. "Dammit, Arthur. That's what I was gonna do." He pursed his lips, shaking his head.

Arthur smirked, setting the cup back onto the counter of the vanity. "Well, then maybe you should've done that first, instead of spending five minutes perfecting your eye makeup." Vlad snickered, Lukas rolling his eyes and huffing.

The three- Vlad more than anyone- had decided to be vampires this year, Arthur assuming their inspiration to be The Count from Sesame Street. Their striped waistcoats were itchy, the matching, exaggerated bow-ties rubbing up against his chin in an annoying way. Black velvet capes, cheap and ordinary ones that they had picked up at a long and tedious run to the nearby Halloween store, hung down their backs, Arthur using all his strength to not rip the rough fabric off and throw it out the window.

It was all incredibly tacky, Arthur thought with a wince, and when he raised his complaint, he received the same answer from Vlad he had the first few times, along with a waved dismissal and a shake of a head.

"Arthur, I know this is yer first time experiencin' an American Halloween n' all, but Jesus H. Christ, you know jack shit."

Arthur's eyes widened as Lukas snickered, the latter shaking his head as if he had heard a funny joke. He wrinkled his nose, not entirely sure why it was humorous, and clicked his tongue.

"What the hell does that mean?" He made sure that no real anger seeped into his voice, not even a tiny bit, pretending to go along with their little joke. Snapping at them wouldn't do Arthur any good, especially if it led to a big argument.

Lukas broke into a fit of giggles, almost putting his hand across his mouth, but saving his makeup at the very last second by choosing to weave his fingers together instead. Arthur clenched his jaw and his fist, considering what the consequences would be and how he would manage to get out of the trouble caused by smacking the laughter out of his friend.

Falling down on one knee, Vlad grabbed Arthur's hand, the latter begrudgingly letting him, squeezing tight. Patting his fingers against his palm, Arthur's glove- black and fingerless, its cloth thin enough that one could see through it- pressing against his skin, Vlad's grip tightened around his wrist.

"Arthur, hun." Arthur cringed at the term of endearment, as he had done every time he had been called "sweetheart", "honey", or "dear" by someone he wouldn't expect it from. Anyone, really. Even when he dated a few foul souls back in England, he had never heard anything of the like tumble out of their lips, not even once. And now, here, with his friends calling him things that even his mother wouldn't in her worst pity parties… it was odd, to say the least.

He waited for him to continue, insulting him or whatever they thought they were doing, the room falling into silence. Vlad gave him a look. An expectant one.

Arthur groaned, rolling his eyes. "What, hun?" He coated the last word in enough honey to attract a swarm of bees, its tone almost the exact opposite of Vlad's. As soon as it came out of his mouth, however, a sudden realization hit him, and he had to swallow a cringe.

Not seemingly catching the sarcasm in Arthur's words, or the inner turmoil that he had just experienced, Vlad smiled, patting the former's hand. "Arthur. Artie- woah, I'm totally gonna start callin' ya that." Arthur rolled his eyes as Lukas snickered, agreeing with the nickname. "Anyways, the thing is, during Halloween, you're supposed to be tacky. That's the point." Vlad wrinkled his nose, adjusting his knee on the carpet before continuing. "And yeah, we'll look stupid- especially Lukas over there, 'Mr. I Need Eighteen Pounds of Makeup to Please My Boyfriend.'" Vlad shook his head as Arthur snorted. Lukas sticking his tongue out in a playful manner. "But anyways, even if we do look stupid, we'll look stupid together."

At the end of his mini speech- one that Arthur still could not see the point of, Vlad smiled, cocking his head to the side and batting his eyelashes. Arthur deadpanned, blinking slowly. "I still don't see what that has to do with dressing like a low-budget Count Chocula."

Vlad pouting as Arthur pulled his hands from his grip, strolling to the vanity and digging through the makeup pile for finishing touches. After a few minutes of being ignored, Vlad stood, shaking his head as he joined Arthur and Lukas.

The three worked in silence, adding extra, unplanned details and touch-ups. Eventually, Vlad's little brother, Andrei, came skipping in, his orange pumpkin bucket rattling and smacking against his knee.

Andrei jumped on Vlad's bed, kicking his shoes off onto the carpet before dumping his candy on the bed. Even with he and Vlad's insisting, Andrei wasn't allowed to go with them that evening, Vlad's mother instead taking him out earlier.

Though, as Lukas had expertly put it when Vlad had complained, having a ten year old go trick-or-treating with a group of cursing high schoolers wasn't really the best thing, no matter how much the latter said that the swearing would be kept to the minimum.

"Vlad! Vlad! Vlad!' Andrei kicked his feet, slapping his hands against the mattress excitedly. "That old lady down the street, y'know her? She's givin' out even bigger chocolate bars this year!"

Vlad perked up, his cape swishing as he turned. "What? Really?" Andrei nodded, grabbing a large candy bar from the pile and waving it in the air.

Arthur's eyes widened, his lip curling in disgust. Hershey's. Orange plastic wrapped tightly around the bar, the words "King Sized" displayed in red, a banner of gray behind them. On the side, merging with the title, a single pumpkin surrounded by a colony of bats.

Vlad clapped his hands with glee, his face lighting up to the point where Arthur wouldn't be a bit surprised if he started jumping up and down. "Holy shit, man! That's great!" Whether Vlad didn't realize that he cursed or just didn't care, Andrei didn't seem to be thrown off his axis. The latter just smiled, one that was almost identical to his brother's, even down to the twin dimples that appeared on his cheeks.

"Yeah, yeah! Y'all gotta go! I don't think she's gonna be out there too much longer." He put extra emphasis on each word, as if it were imperative that they leave the house that very second. Arthur almost snorted, being reminded of Peter's younger years.

Well, at least Andrei hadn't started screeching and shrieking yet.

Vlad frowned, shaking his head. "Nah, we can't yet, little man."

A familiar pout. "Why?"

"Cause we got other people comin' over, and we hafta wait for them, that's why."

Cocking his head to the side, Andrei's brow furrowed. Arthur couldn't help but be a tiny bit amazed at how similar the two were to each other, couldn't help but compare him to his own brothers, younger and older. He had never gotten this kind of affection from them, receiving a genuine smile only after an annoying prank or a session of one-sided roughhousing.

Not that one would be welcomed these days, no matter what they said or did to try and heal the supposed rift between the six of them.

"Well, who're ya waitin' for?"

Vlad deadpanned, his answer clear on his face. Crossing his arms, Andrei pursed his lips into a fine line, trying to convey a similar expression, wiggling his foot up and down. It was obvious that he wouldn't leave until Vlad told him who was to accompany them on their candy begging adventure, even if he would have no idea who they were.

Arthur snorted, shaking his head.

Realizing that they were going nowhere in the conversation, Vlad deflated, throwing his hands up with an exasperated look spreading across his face. "Well, we're going with Mathias, Gilbert, Kiku, Alfred-" Arthur cringed at the mentioned name, wiping the look off his face upon noticing Vlad's smirk and wiggling eyebrows. "And… Ivan. I don't think Antonio's gonna come, cause he and Arthur don't get along too much. Nor Lovino and Francis."

Andrei nodded his head, taking in the information. He reached for a pile of his candy, picking out a small, wrapped piecing, pulling the chocolate out of the plastic wrapper and popping it into his mouth. Chewing, Andrei's nodding picked up the pace, though Arthur couldn't tell if it was out of approval for the sweet or otherwise.

Shaking his head, Lukas turned back towards the vanity, rotating his head and neck, checking for any blemishes or mistakes. Arthur straightened his back and rolled his shoulders, about to do the same, when Andrei spoke.

"Vlad?"

"Yeah?"

"Who're they?"

Arthur and Lukas snorted as Vlad slumped over, shaking his head and huffing. Breathing in deep, Vlad just waved his hand in slightly agitated dismissal at his brother, the latter pouting. "They're no one you would know."

Andrei nodded, before perking up, his eyebrows scrunching together. He looked in Arthur's direction, head cocking to the side, his wild hair falling against his cheeks. "Vlad, why'd ya make a funny face when ya mentioned that one guy?"

A smug smile. "Who? Alfred?" He said his name in a suggesting tone, and Arthur knew what was coming.

Andrei nodded.

Turning to Arthur, Vlad smirked, ignoring the former's shaking head and glares. Andrei looked between the two, crossing his arms together, his confusing only being resolved as Vlad started speaking. "Oh, you don't know?"

"Vlad." Arthur gritted his teeth, rolling his fingers into fists. Occasional, simple teasing, only kept among the three of them, was tolerable. Telling a ten year old, one who was infamous for having a loose mouth, was not.

Ignoring the warning laced in his words, Vlad continued on. "Alfred is Arthur's boyfr-"

"Vlad. Stop."

The damage had already been done, Andrei's eyes widening, his confused frown cracking into a smile. Andrei laughed, clapping his hands together. "He's your boyfriend? How long have y'all been together?" He scooted up on the bed, his feet almost touching the floor. He spoke in a hushed tone, as if his false relationship with Alfred were a mystery, filled with treasure. "Have y'all kissed yet?"

Arthur rolled his eyes, thinking of ways to word a sentence that would crush the child's hope without coming off as too strong. "Sorry to tell you, lad, but Alfred and I are not dating."

Lukas snickered, starting to tidy up the vanity as he spoke. "But ya wish you were."

"No, I do not. Where did you even come up with that?" Arthur shook his head, and he knew he wasn't helping, only digging himself into a deeper hole. "I don't like Alfred."

Lukas shook his head, chucking. "You denying it isn't gonna make it go away. Trust me, I know."

Arthur threw a glare in his friend's direction, rolling his eyes. Pulling his sleeve up, he checked his watch, almost sighing in relief at the time. "Whatever. C'mon, they're almost here. "Let's go sit out on the porch."

* * *

Arthur shivered at the biting cold, weaving and unweaving his fingers in a fruitless attempt to warm them up, the skimpy gloves failing to help in any way. Looking over, the wicker rocking chair groaning as he turned, he could see vlad and Lukas doing the same. Checking his watch, he swore, a filthy word that had his friends turning their attention to him. "They're fifteen minutes late."

Lukas huffed, leaning back in his chair, his feet tapping against the concrete of the porch. He waved Arthur off. "They could've been met with heavy traffic. Everyone's goin' to parties and festivals and stuff. The streets are packed."

Indeed they were. Looking out, handfuls and handfuls of children were on the streets, their costumes ranging from cute, sparkly outfits of royalty to obscure TV show characters. Some stopped in front of Vlad's house, looking down to the walkway to where he sat on the front stoop, a few daring to approach. Others- mostly the younger ones- running away with fright at the sight of all the spooky decorations.

Vlad laughed at those, chuckling and shaking his head. He made sure to comment on each kid's costume, even giving a charming, exaggerated bow to the girls in princess dresses. It was cute, Arthur had to admit, the way he seemed to connect with the children in ways that only appeared in cheesy Hallmark films. How he managed to make them giggle and screech, make their eyes wide and sparkling.

It was admirable, in a way, to have such a skill. Even if it was one that Arthur would never want to touch, even with a ten-foot pole.

Eventually, after what seemed like a century of shivering, a large SUV rolled into the driveway. Arthur squinted as the light from the headlights hit his eyes, though he supposed that going blind would be perfect for a vampire with bats printed over his clothing.

The lights died down, Arthur finally being able to see again, shaking his head and blinking rapidly. When he closed his eyes, a firework show of stinging colors burst out, and he winced.

"Lukas!" Mathias tumbled out of the car, leaving the door open for others inside to scoot out of. Upon hearing his name, Lukas' head snapped up from his cell phone, and he stood, the rocking chair groaning and rolling back as he ran.

Arthur watched with a raised eyebrow as they pulled each other into a tight hug, gagging in disgust as they started kissing and giggling. As Vlad stood, entering the porch to leave the candy bowl on a table and to turn off the light, they shared a look. It was one that they had been making more and more, an almost default when Mathias and Lukas were in the same general area.

Arthur counted down the days until their honeymoon stage would end, eagerly waiting for their greetings to consist of a hug and a quick kiss. For all of it to die down, just a little bit, even if he would never mention it to anyone, or ever admit it if someone were to bring it up.

Rolling his shoulders back, Arthur pushed himself off the rocking chair, setting his hand on the armrest to steady it. He strolled out from the porch, towards the car, the sting of the cold digging in.

Though he didn't want anything to do with those that were accompanying them, didn't even want to participate in this silly old holiday, Arthur figured that it would be best if he were to try to be pleasant, at the very least.

"Try," being the key word.

He smiled, making sure it reached his eyes, as Alfred jumped out of the car from the driver's seat, the gravel crunching under his boots. Arthur looked him up and down, wondering what character could possibly need so much blood. Alfred's glasses were gone, replaced with hazel colored contacts, and Arthur admitted to himself that he liked the glasses better. Spatters of fake blood spotted his face, a more healthy amount applied to the black leather butcher's apron hanging from his shoulders. With the cargo pants and polo shirt under it, along with black combat boots, the only thing Arthur could say:

"Nice outfit."

Alfred smiled, looking down to admire his costume, patting his hands protected with black leather gloves against the side of leg. "Aw, thanks, man! You watch Dexter?"

Arthur had heart of it, along with some mixed reviews, but hadn't watched it. He shook his head, hoping and silently praying that Alfred wouldn't choose to go into further detail, and would just leave it at that.

Though, things never went his way.

Pouting, Alfred put his hands to his hips, cocking them to the side. "Really? Ya haven't?"

"No, I've not."

His eyebrows shot up, his mouth gaping. "Really? Omg. Ya gotta watch it." Arthur knew what was coming, so he crossed his arms, adding some teeth to his smile, bracing himself for the long explanation. "It's about this guy name Dexter Morgan- obviously- and and he's a serial killer. But the thing is, he doesn't kill random people just cause he feels like it, he has specific criteria for it. Like, they themselves have to be murderers and have messed up morals for them to be on his list. And then when- oh, shit. That's a spoiler, never mind. But as they story goes on, Dexter begins to question his morals, and whether they were truly the right thing. And all this stuff happens, and ah! It's so good! You should watch it! It's really good!"

Arthur nodded, smiling. He would have loved to say something sarcastic, call the concept of the show rushed and an attempt for something new when it wasn't needed. He was about to, in fact, his smile turning more honeyed, his tongue pressing against his teeth as he prepared the offending sentence.

Until Kiku strolled over.

Arthur rolled his eyes, his smile faltering, before coming back up at full force. Alfred put his arm around his boyfriend's shoulders, the latter freezing up a bit. Alfred didn't seem to notice, or was just used to it by now, just sending a smile towards his way before returning his attention back to Arthur.

"Ah, man. Ya think my costume's obscure, then check out Kiku's."

Indeed. Kiku looked like he was attending a 1980s job interview, much less walking down the street for an hour or two of trick-or-treating. Creased, brown pants matched with a khaki jacket of the same color, the combination making Arthur want to cringe. A white dress shirt was pressed under the jacket, a red tie providing the only bit of color in the bland outfit. Kiku carried a small, black notebook under his arm.

Alfred must've noticed his confusion, as he laughed, much to Arthur's chagrin, his smile widening to show pearly white teeth. There was a hint of amusement in his eyes, and Arthur wanted nothing more than to slap it out of him. "Guess who he is."

A click of his tongue. "What?"

"Kiku's costume. Guess who he's dressed up as."

He looked him up and down, Kiku shuffling around in discomfort under his stare. Arthur almost had the nerve to smirk, knowing what would happen if Kiku were to start a quarrel.

In regards to what happened in the courtyard during lunch two weeks earlier, Mathias had informed Lukas, and him to Vlad and Arthur, that the group would be on their very best behavior that evening. Upon hearing it, Arthur made sure to smile and nod, acting grateful for the gracious gift, though in reality, he had almost deflated at the words. Perhaps he was itching for a fight, or a heavy verbal spar, at the very least. He hadn't punched someone in months, Peter not counting, and he flexed his fingers at the thought of the impact when his knuckles met flesh.

He missed that feeling.

"Er-" Arthur took a step back, cupping his chin. Anything to seem as if he were actually interested. "Maybe… The Office?" He narrowed his eyes, waiting for a confirmation.

Alfred frowned, Kiku doing the same, seeming a bit more unsurprised than the former, before crossing his arms. "No, it's Death Note- the Japanese one, not the shitty Netflix version." Alfred paused, seeming to take in Arthur's words. "Wait, you watch The Office?"

Only a handful of episodes, really, but he had enjoyed them. "Yes, I have." The very second Arthur finished speaking, he realized a mistake, quickly clarifying it. "I've watched the British show."

The excitement in Alfred's eyes died down, replaced by a cloud of disappointment. Even Kiku- damn him- seemed a bit put off, his expression deadpanning. Arthur kept smiling, sending a couple glances towards Lukas and Vlad to see if they were about to leave, but was smiling nonetheless. Even when he oh-so-desperately wanted to slap Alfred at his words."

"The British version? Really? That one's awful."

He took a shallow breath, not even trying to hide the anger in his words. "Have you ever even watched it?"

"No, but-"

That was when Arthur let his smile fall, replaced by a growing sneer. "So you insult me, and call a show, that you know I enjoy, awful, when you haven't even seen a single episode?" Arthur shook his head, rolling his eyes. "Really?"

As if he were expecting this to happen, Kiku huffed, wrapping his fingers around Alfred's forearm. He was subtle-or, at least, trying to be, as Arthur quickly noticed it.

A coward, taking the easy way out.

Lifting up onto his toes, Kiku whispered into Alfred's ear. Alfred shook his head before he could finish, pursing his lips into a fine line. "No."

Arthur raised an eyebrow at that, snorting when Alfred turned his attention towards him, anger swimming in his eyes. He curled his fingers into a fist, an action which surprised Arthur, if only slightly, and clenched his jaw. "Look, Arthur, I'm sorry for whatever you think I did to you, but-"

"Hey! Are y'all done chit-chattin' or are we gonna have to stay here for another eighteen hours?" Arthur turned to find Gilbert standing next to the car, his hand braced on the hood with the other holding a large stick.

Alfred swore, shallowing shaking his head, before bringing back up his signature smile. It was unnerving how quickly Alfred could dissipate his anger and pretend to be something else, but Arthur supposed that he did the same.

"Yeah, man! We'll be right on over!' He sent a look towards Arthur, one that said that their conversation was not over, before interlocking his fingers with Kiku's and heading towards his friends.

Arthur frowned, his fun having been abruptly ended. Shoving his hands into his pockets and shivering, he made his way towards Vlad and Lukas, the former shaking his head with a smug and expecting smirk.

"What?" Arthur stopped in front of them, gravel crunching under his feet.

Wiggling his eyebrows, Vlad said with a suggestive tone in his voice, "S, what'd ya talk about with Alfred?"

He rolled his eyes, shaking his head. "Nothing. He was just being a fool. Can't expect anything more from him."

His friends' eyes widened, Vlad's mouth gaping. Arthur deadpanned, waiting with a tapping foot for them to get their comments and laughter our before even thinking about defending himself. It was Lukas who said something first, to Arthur's surprise, the former's love expertise budding its smitten head out.

Smiling,Lukas cocked his head to the side, Vlad subtly mocking his words behind him. "Arthur, don't worry. It's just a small argument. They're normal in relationships. It shows that it's healthy."

Arthur pursed his lips, looking Lukas up and down with a disgusted eye. Vlad, who normally would've jumped at the chance of taking a jab at Arthur's love life, groaned, sending Lukas an expression similar to Arthur's.

"Lukas, you and Mathias haven't even been dating for two months. Quit talkin' about how you're some love guru or expert or whatever and go back to making out."

Arthur snorted before breaking out into a chuckle. His laughter grew at the look of offense on Lukas' face, Arthur putting a hand over his mouth in attempt to block it from escaping.

Lukas rolled his eyes, leaving the duo and seeking out the comfort of an open-armed Mathias, which had Arthur laughing even harder. Eventually, Vlad joined in, pressing his arm against his stomach and using Arthur's shoulder as a brace.

Grabbing a bucket offered to him by Mathias, Lukas started walking, tugging the former along with him. The rest of the group followed, quickly breaking off into tiny groups and side conversations, leaving them behind.

"Oh shit," Vlad sputtered out, heaving for air and wheezing. "Wait for me."

Arthur took a few steps back as Vlad ran back into the porch, yelling a quick goodbye to his mother before letting the door shut with a slam. He jogged over to Arthur, grabbing their baskets along the way, before taking his hand and dragging him down the driveway.

They were out of breath by the time they caught up with everyone else, the breathlessness from their session of laughter- which had now died down to subdued giggling- not helping the fact. Arthur felt a slight burn in his lungs, ignoring it in favor of admiring the pattern on his basket and listening to Vlad as he started chattering with delight.

He frowned at the orange, plastic pumpkin, its face one of terror as a green snake wrapped around it, its forked tongue sticking out in what almost seemed like an amused smile.

* * *

Night quickly fell, as it usually did this time of year, the younger children disappearing, replaced by hordes of teenagers and other questionable rag-tag groups of candy beggars.

Arthur dug through his bucket, shuffling through the pile of candy in search of something that felt appealing. No one paid him any mind as the sound of crinkling plastic rang through the air, nor when he almost tripped over a crack in the sidewalk.

Pickings were good this year, or so Mathias had yelled at the top of his lungs after the third, maybe fourth house they had hit. "It'll e even better," Arthur overheard, struggling to hear Lukas' soft voice over the sounds of shrieks and cheers and ripping candy wrappers, "When the grocery stores mark the prices down to practically nothing next week."

Arthur agreed, knowing that that would be the only time his mother would even think about buying a giant bag of sweets for his enjoyment. He had no idea what his family was doing that evening, perhaps turning off all lights in the house and praying that no one would knocked on the door, but he hoped that they wouldn't be on the receiving end of limited addition toilet paper decorations. If only because Arthur didn't want to hear his month rant and rave about it to anyone who would lend an ear- willingly or forced- for the next six months.

And, there was a large chance that she would make him clean it up.

Feeling something particularly squishy in his bucket, Arthur pulled out a sweet, inspecting it like a jeweler would a diamond. It was a gummy, shaped like a deformed hamburger, a popular American cartoon character spread across the wrapper, smiling with two teeth. He slowly opened it, grinning in satisfaction about seeing the character's face rip in half, before popping the gummy into his mouth and immediately cringing.

It tasted like processed plastic.

He gagged, but forced himself to chew and eventually swallow. The taste was still left in his mouth, however, and probably would be for the rest of the evening. He dug through his bucket, checking to see if there were any others, huffing in relief when he found that that was the only one.

"Not a fan of Krabby Patties?" Arthur jumped at the muffled voice, turning to find Ivan. The latter was in a fully body bear costume, holes with black mesh stretched over it covering the mouth and eyes.

Grabbing the wrapper, which he had thrown back into the bucket, Arthur read the name, his lips curled. "So that's what they're called."

Ivan chuckled, shaking his head. "So you're the infamous Arthur Kirkland?" There was a hint of amusement in his words, as if Ivan were mocking him, but Arthur paid it no attention.

He soured at that, frowning and tossing the wrapper back into the bucket. Arthur stopped, letting distance build up between them and the rest of the group, only turning to Ivan when they were out of earshot, crossing his arms.

"I've no clue why you people keep calling me that."

Ivan cocked his head to the side, the bear's head adding a comical effect. If his mood hadn't been dowsed with a bucket of icy water, he would've laughed. "What? Your name?"

He shook his head, rolling his eyes. "You say my name as if I'm the man that killed your mothers and made blankets out of their flesh."

A few seconds of silence, and then- "Well, to some of those in that little group of ours, you are. Alfred is very… treasured, I guess."

Arthur huffed, starting a slow stroll down the sidewalk. Ivan followed. "I assumed Alfred failed to include in his crying session that he was the one who insulted me first."

Ivan hummed, his silence an answer enough. Arthur knew the truth, he wasn't stupid, but a confirmation just made him grit his teeth, curling his fingers into a fist.

"Though, Alfred didn't actually cry."

Arthur's eyes shot up in surprise, and he blinked a few times. "Really? Kiku said otherwise."

Ivan snorted. "I'm sure Kiku wanted it to happen, or at least hoped it would. If only so he could work on the 'Perfect Couple' mold the two have set up for themselves. It's starting to crack, haven't you noticed?"

Even with that mask on, Arthur could tell Ivan was smiling, his tone knowing and smug. It wasn't subtle, as if he hadn't even tried to keep it hidden, Arthur noticing it quickly. But having his suspicions confirmed, from someone in the inside, no less… He opened his mouth to speak, but Ivan cut him off, continuing.

"I have a feeling, with how much they hate you, that you're either going to be the crack that brings the whole dam down, or the band-aid that fixes it- which I know is what Kiku wants."

Arthur bristled at that, his shoulders tensing. He caught Ivan's last words, choosing and wording his next sentence carefully. "And what does Alfred want?"

Ivan paused, slowing down to a stop. Taking a few steps in front of him, Arthur stopped as well, crossing his arms and waiting for a reply. Before speaking Ivan leaned side to side, looking around, as if he were nervous that anyone could be listening. "I don't think that even Alfred knows the answer to that question."

Arthur tucked that information into his head, in case it could be used for later, before opening his mouth to speak. "What do you mean?"

A moment of silence. "You're planning something, aren't you?"

Whether the sudden turn of conversation was due to a realization or a severe unwant of answering Arthur's question, he didn't care. Arthur furrowed his brow, gaping his mouth. Anything to look as if he had no clue to what Ivan was accusing him of. "What are you talking about?"

Ivan shrugged, as if he didn't know the cause of his question, and continued walking. Arthur caught up to him, having to increase his stride to keep up.

"I think you are, and that you're lying to me. Which is fine. I would lie to you as well. I'm the enemy, after all." He lifted his arms, his fingers fumbling in an attempt to adjust his mask. Arthur stayed silent, waiting for him to continue what could become a long, dramatic speech, even as the others in the group ran excitedly up to a brightly lit porch. "Though, if you are planning something, which many of us think you are, then I would like you to go through with it."

Arthur opened his mouth to speak, to ask why in the world Ivan would want such a thing. He was cut off again, much to his chagrin, but stayed quiet to listen.

"I went to elementary school with Alfred. We were good friends. We went to different middle schools, and though we kept in touch through various social media accounts that we faked our ages on, we didn't see each other for a good part of three years. And when freshman year started, he had Kiku, who's stuck with him since." Ivan shook his head, kicking a pebble off into someone's yard. "I would like to see how fragile that relationship of theirs really is, and if it's like I think it is. I wanna see how easy it would be to knock them down, and if they would get back up without much trouble."

Arthur nodded, tightening his grip around the handle of his bucket. A valid want.

"Arthur! Come up here! This lady's givin' out York Peppermint Patties!" Vlad waved his arms from a couple doors down, a young woman who look a handful of years younger blushing and burying her face into her shoulder.

Arthur shook his head, strolling over, building up into a slow jog. He turned back towards Ivan, who was following him, sending a small, curt nod in his direction. He received a similar one back.

York Peppermint Patties, Arthur soon concluded, were the one decent American chocolate.

* * *

This chapter had a vague and obscure piece of foreshadowing in it! The first person who guesses it right will get an one-shot of their choosing dedicated to them :)

Also, y'all should really watch Dexter! I binged it through the summer, and I really, really liked it. I'ven't watched the Netflix version of Death Note, but I've heard that it's awful. I never really liked the fact that they whitewashed the characters, and I don't think I will watch it because of that…

Happy Halloween! Or, at least, to everyone it's still Halloween for. I meant to get this posted way back in September, but as the months just kinda collided, I was like, "Hey! Let's post the Halloween chapter on Halloween!" So yeah! This will probably be the only time ever one of my fics actually go along with the irl timeline, so savor this wonderful day! I also apologize for this taking almost two months, I try to work on it every day, just everything is going by so quickly!

I can say with great pride that Arthur's plan will be fully revealed in Chapter 14. I have the next couple of chapters planned out, which i for me, but not so much for you guys :). I'm kinda nervous about it, but my spoiler squad (the people I spoil all of my stuff to) says that they like it, so I guess it's fine?

Also, one more thing! I got a Discord chat! It's basically where I get to talk to everyone (because I'm the most talkative person ever, lmao) and be friends and stuff. I won't spoil anything about this fic, unless anyone asks, anything Cross Life related will mostly just be me complaining about chronic writer's block. When you join, it'll be a bit dead, so that's why I want to get as much people as possible on it! For those who want to join (I'll love to have ya there) you can find the join link on my profile!

So, yeah! Thank you so much for reading Cross Life Chapter 12! I hope you guys have a wonderful morning, day, and evening!


	13. Blue Light

Math, Arthur decided at that very moment, was something that he would never touch again after college. He would hope that any unfortunate soul that might marry him would enjoy it, and then he'd shove all of it to them. The moment he got his final diploma was the moment he would forever lay down his calculator.

He straightened his back, moving his hand to squeeze the back of his neck. Arthur glanced down at his current problem, frowning when he realized that he had not even the faintest idea of where to start. He grabbed his phone to take a photo, saving it to the folder meant for his after-school tutor sessions.

Tutoring. He had had a handful of sessions with Alfred, and while they had certainly helped, Arthur's grade in math rising to a low B, they weren't making the steadfast progress that he had hoped they would.

Alfred tiptoed around Arthur as if he were a pile of eggshells, or perhaps as if he were a ticking hydrogen bomb ready to set off at even the tiniest of pokes. He had to admit, at the start, it was amusing, but now, with Alfred saying each word as if it would be his last, it was plain annoying. Any of the bullshit his brothers pulled on a regular basis would be preferable to Alfred whispering that Arthur had gotten the problem wrong for the fifth time.

Running his finger through his hair, Arthur sighed, turning his head over to his cell phone as it vibrated. The dark blue LED light flashed and he clicked it open, fully expecting a random promotional email or several missed calls and voicemails from his mother. He was surprised to see that Lukas had replied to his text message, after waiting for ten minutes at the very least. Arthur hummed, pleased with the results.

Receiving texts on a regular basis from his friends, this was a new thing. In England, the sole purpose- or, the sole reason why it was bought in the first place- of his phone was for long distance commands from his parents. As a result, he would usually have it turned off, claiming the batter to be head if his mother were to ask about it, or simply leaving it at home.

In America, however…

At another flash of the LED light, he opened up the text messenger application, sighing and letting his shoulders slump upon reading Lukas' continuation of their current conversation.

 _I think I love him. I really do_

Arthur held down the urge to groan, though it wasn't at his friend's words of affection. It was the fact that Lukas and Mathias were tiptoeing around each other, as if they were afraid their little honeymoon phase of theirs was finally fading and turning into something that required much more responsibility and commitment.

Looking back, Arthur supposed it was a way for him to vent, considering that Mathias had yet to say the three little words to Lukas, much to the latter's chagrin. Why Lukas didn't just suck it up and say it himself, Arthur didn't know, even though he had no problem with going to he and Vlad for advice and announcing it in the soft confinement of their small social circle.

Or, at least, talking about it in as hushed whispers as he could manage, up until he waved the conversation away, moving on to a topic that had nothing to do with Mathias.

Arthur set his phone down, leaving it to turn off on its own, returning to his homework. After a few minutes of scribbling random, obscure numbers onto a crowded sheet of scratch paper and clicking the keys on his calculator with no particular goal in mind, Arthur grew bored again in less than a few minutes, collapsing against his wall with a huff.

Clicking the lead back into his pencil, Arthur tossed it to the side, frowning as he watched it roll off the bed and hit the floor with a short and small thump. He ignored it, rolling his eyes with a sigh, before turning back to his phone.

He watched the screen for a few minutes, planning out what he was going to say. A message with a particularly inviting tone would cause Lukas to start talking, which would annoy Vlad if he were to miss anything. However, at the same time, a snarky and snide comment- which, unfortunately, was his favorite way to go- could more or less hurt his friend's feelings, something that Arthur wanted to avoid. He tapped on the keys, bopping his head to the pleasing clicking noise his phone made, hitting the backspace multiple times when he found a word to be unsuitable.

 _Oh, no. I would've thought that you hated him._

Sarcasm. That was safe, that was something that was normal. Lukas and Vlad were used to it, their own remarks while observing others in the pit laced with them to the point that it was funny. It was their thing, something that was easily understood between them, something that would never be used as a tool meant for offense and harm.

Arthur sat there, rubbing his hands against the dark green sheets, smoothing out creases and flattening dips and bends. He watched the three little dots on his screen move up and down in a dance, waiting for Lukas' reply. Occasionally, they stopped, only to start again a few seconds later, much to Arthur's ever-growing irritation. He knew that his friend was a slow typer, opting to take the "each key at a time with one finger" approach, but sometimes, it grew to the point of being ridiculous.

Perhaps they would have to start lessons.

Huffing, he clicked the button to turn the sound for notifications on, tossing his phone onto the pillow so it wouldn't become tangled in the mountain of blankets. He looked back at his homework, his lips curling in disgust, and he quickly snapped his math textbook shut.

Arthur leaned forward, his shirt rising in the back, reaching for his backpack. He dragged it forward, jerking it towards him a few times when it was caught on the rug- an ugly one that his mother had insisted on purchasing, only to scold him later about how expensive it was, his fingers squeezing tight around the handle at the top.

He unzipped the largest pocket, cringing at the sight of the thick textbooks and binders. Reaching for his math book, Arthur struggled to shove it into his designated slot, having to move some of his notebooks to make it work. Eventually, he got it in, after a couple minutes and a slightly red finger. Arthur collapsed against the wall, ignoring the loud thump that sounded as he hit his head.

Kicking his backpack away, he pushed his feet up, hugging his legs and setting his chin on his knees. He sat there for a handful of minutes, staring at the ceiling and thinking about everything and nothing.

The first semester was rapidly closing, midterms approaching, followed by a much needed two-week winter break. The plan would most likely- and preferably, for that matter- be done and over with by the time he left school grounds on the last day of the semester, but he could never be sure of the ups and downs that were to come.

The problem, he realized with no surprise whatsoever, was Heracles. He was the key to everything, a key that he had temporarily lost. Their previous meeting hadn't gone as well as he had hoped, and Arthur constantly spent his free time analyzing and going over the majority of the conversation over and over again to try and see what had gone wrong.

It wasn't Arthur's fault that Heracles wasn't willing to listen. Didn't want to consider the possibility that he could have a relationship with Kiku that was more than tiptoeing around denied feelings.

It wasn't his fault, but it was a mighty inconvenience nonetheless.

Finally, his phone pinged, the notification noise a custom one made the night of a rather eventful sleepover at Lukas' house. He smiled at it, at the excited and wide awake voices of his friends screeching for him to check his phone. It was nice. Something that he unexpectedly looked forward to hearing.

His fingers dully thumped against his stained and smeared screen as he typed in his password, his phone clicking as it opened to reveal his home screen. Arthur opened the instant messenger app, not bothering with the preview, frowning as he read the message that had taken Lukas what had seemed like hours to type.

 _I dunno. Sometimes it seems like he doesn't feel the same way, And every time I think of asking him, the idiot does something that makes me think that I thought too soon, but then he does something that makes me think again_

Perking up, Arthur folded his legs together, crisscrossing his calves. He hunched over his phone, about to type a response when he heard the notification ping again, another white message floating to the top of the screen.

 _I just. I don't know. Sorry for bothering you with this_

Arthur waited for a minute to see if Lukas was going to add anything else, and when nothing came, he began to type. He supposed that since he was the one- surprisingly, and for the first and probably only time ever- to start this particular conversation, he would have to be the one to provide emotional support.

He shook his head, tsking. All the lovey-dovey gushing of theirs, annoying the hell out of Arthur and Vlad and occasionally giving him raging headaches, only for him to have to go through this. Arthur quickly typed out his message, impatiently tapping against his phone as he waited for a reply.

 _How could you say that? It's obvious the man has a lifetime's worth of romantic feelings for you. Have you not noticed the way that he drools even at the sight of you?_

It wasn't until a few minutes later, when Arthur had yet to receive an answer, that an idea popped into his head. Something absolutely genius, a sure-fire way to get Heracles to join his cause. Completely foolproof. But, at the same time, disregarding his friend's privacy in an almost unforgivable way

It was perfect. That is, if Lukas unknowingly went along with it.

With careful planning, he worded out his sentence, deleting a few words here and there to make it sound more natural. This entire plan would go down the hole if a single name besides his own were to be mentioned, and Arthur prayed to any powerful deity out there that Lukas' "Man of Few Words" side would come out for the time being.

 _What do you even like about him, anyways?_

He licked the twin holes in his bottom lip before clicking his tongue, lifting his hand to wipe off the saliva. They were nearly closed, and though Arthur had gotten used to the feeling of his piercings' absence months ago, he still secretly mourned their loss.

The ones she could find were the first things to go, his mother not hesitating in ordering Arthur to take his out and dumping the ones he carefully kept organized in a box. Sometimes, when he was particularly bitter or spiteful, he would lie on his bed, pondering over where they had gone. The landfill, most likely, adding to the never-ending sea of rubbish, mattresses, and abandoned recyclables. Arthur frowned at the thought.

He was still deep in thought, staring intensely at his closet when his phone buzzed, the noise snapping him back into reality. Arthur rolled over, lying on his stomach his toes curling around the frame of his bed as he scanned Lukas' text for any damning words.

 _It's just that when he smiles at me or laughs then I can feel my heart start to race. He's kind and generous and caring._

Arthur bopped his head to the side, thinking of how he could manipulate this to go with his idea. It was a bit cheesy and kind of a stretch, but surely there was some way that he could manipulate Lukas' words to seem as if they were from someone else.

 _And you think that that love isn't reciprocated in the way that you would like it to be?_

The response was almost instantaneous. Arthur bit his lip as he read, scanning for any words that would make it too obvious that it was Lukas. Thankfully, there was enough to make it work, if Arthur managed to spin the story well enough.

 _I can't shake off the feeling that everything he says to me is just for the sake of being nice. As if he feels bad for me_

The three dots resumed their dance on his screen, and Arthur lightly tapped his foot against his bed frame as he waited for the next message. It was well-known- or, at least, among the three of them- that Lukas opted to send double text messages instead of one large paragraph, and while it certainly made the individual wait somewhat shorter, Arthur couldn't help but be irked at the suspense it built.

He watched as the gray text bubble rose up, quickly gobbling down the words.

 _And I just don't know how to get out of this situation that I'm currently in. I love him, I really do, but I feel like I'm trapped_

Arthur grinned, flipping over onto his back before laughing, bracing his arms around his stomach. Perfect. Absolutely perfect. That second text message, the very one he had just read, would be the one that could set everything that he had worked for all into motion.

Sitting up, he rolled his shoulders back. Arthur read the message again, trying to find a way that he could quickly end the conversation. If it were to go on the way it was, then it could grow out of the path that he wanted it to take, which would ruin the careful planning that had taken place for the past half hour.

He stretched his fingers, curling them up into a half fist before spreading them out, staring at his screen. Arthur made a few simple errors in his haste as he thumbed out the message, groaning as he fixed them before hitting send.

 _Have you thought about getting out of it?_

Arthur cringed at the possibility, wondering how his friend was going to react to his message. For a split second, he regretted sending it, knowing that it was going to lead to a much longer, much more tedious conversation that he didn't need.

As much as their relationship annoyed him, Arthur realized with a tinge of guilt that he had gone too far. His nose wrinkled at the thought of the two breaking up, and how that would certainly affect the day-to-day operations of their group. Not to mention, how their breakup would make it that much more difficult for Arthur to carry out his future plans.

Arthur pressed the message he had just sent, watching as it highlighted and the text box popped up. Even though he already knew the outcome, Arthur still frowned when he saw no option to delete the message, only to hide it.

Damn.

The clicking of the keys as he typed his next message for once annoyed him, to the point where he could feel a small headache start its pounding in the back of his head. He ignored it, however, preparing his apology and brainstorming a way he could get Lukas to forget that he ever sent it.

His friend sent a message first, however.

 _I don't know_

Upon reading the message, Arthur deleted his draft, shaking his head. And that, he supposed, was that.

* * *

The courtyard, for the first time since Arthur had arrived as this school, was empty. He shivered, running his hands up and down his forearms.

It felt unnatural, really. To walk in and see no one sitting on the concrete rail tot he pit, to not hear the annoying sound of that underclassman fool playing his guitar. To not immediately see Lukas sitting at their usual table, waiting for him and Vlad to arrive.

But considering where he needed to go and what he needed to do that morning, having Lukas not be able to see him from the moment he walked in would prove useful. Especially when he didn't need anyone seeing him go where he was heading.

Tugging the straps of his backpack down his shoulders, Arthur quickly navigated through those who rode the bus. He let out a quick apology when he accidentally bumped into another student, rolling his eyes when he heard them mutter a handful of swears in his direction, but overall ignored them.

Not taking the time to pay attention to his surroundings or to check and see if anyone was following him, Arthur quickly reached the steps leading to the large cafeteria. His backpack bounced behind him, and Arthur cringed as he heard one of his thick textbooks collide with another one.

He almost stopped when he heard the worrying thump of one of his personal reading books, only to reassure himself that he would be able to check once he reached his destination.

Instead of walking through the double doors leading into the cafeteria, Arthur took a sharp right, heading towards the concrete steps. His footsteps quietly echoed across the courtyard, the unnatural silence making him nervous. He lifted his hand from the strap of his backpack, just about to touch the rail-

"Hey, Arthur!"

He cursed, making sure it was loud enough for Alfred to hear. For a moment, Arthur considered continuing on, but he knew that he would only be relentlessly followed. Something he would rather not happen, if only to keep the pestering from starting earlier than usual.

Arthur turned as Alfred walked up to him, leaning against the railing of the stairs. The pressure of his backpack pressing into him was uncomfortable, but he dealt with it.

"What do you need?"

Alfred grinned, eyes darting off to the side. Raising an eyebrow, Arthur crossed his arms, waiting for what was going to be a long and tedious conversation, shoving down the urge to take out his phone and check the time.

Cheeks growing red, Alfred scratched the back of his neck. "Uh…" He seemed to remember who exactly he was talking to, dropping his arm to the side, letting his smile fall, and standing straight.

Arthur raised an eyebrow, but didn't speak, waiting for Alfred to come up with whatever excuse he had to make his morning miserable. He was almost tempted to walk away, but decided to stay. At least until Alfred finally decided to spit out whatever he meant to say, if only so he could mock him for it afterward.

Taking in a deep breath, Alfred quickly let it, putting on what seemed like a half-assed face of determination. "I was just, uh, wondering if you had seen Kiku?"

Arthur tensed, frowning and letting his eyebrows relax as he deadpanned. He glared at Alfred, making sure it held much more hate than what was necessary.

Staying silent, waiting to see if Alfred would try to come up with another stupid excuse, hopefully better than the one he had just thrown at him. Something inside of Arthur boiled at the question, and he dug his fingernails into the meat of his palm.

Alfred averted his eyes, clasping his arms behind his back. He opened his mouth, as if he was going to say something, but shut if with a soft pop, seemingly deciding against it. It wasn't until around thirty seconds later that he tried again, this time succeeding in getting his words out. "You know what, man, I'm-"

Arthur cut him off, not willing to hear any half-assed apology that he was trying to make. "I'm not a babysitter for your fucking boyfriend, Alfred. Go look for him yourself."

The blush on Alfred's cheeks grew darker, and he kicked at the concrete, nodding his head as if he expected this kind of reaction from Arthur. It only made Arthur silently question why he had asked it in the first place. Perhaps to rile him up so he could only antagonize him further, or maybe to try and get some hidden information from him.

With a huff, Alfred smiled, shaking his head and dragging his tongue across his teeth. "Shit, sorry-"

"So we're done here?"

A small frown, one that Arthur could've sworn seemed almost like a pout. "Yeah."

Arthur gave him a small, forced smile, but from the way Alfred was looking at him, it might as well have been gritted teeth with a snarl. Flipping his phone from his back pocket, Arthur cursed at the time, turning and begging his quick scale up the steps.

It wasn't until he was at the very top, about to walk into the second-floor lobby, when Alfred called out, still standing where Arthur had left him. "See you in fourth period!"

Arthur didn't bother to give him an answer.

Finally being able to resume, the task at hands, Arthur navigated through the halls. He made sure that he didn't speak to any of the students he passed, only paying teachers a swift nod when they waved. He started walking faster when he neared his math class, knowing that Mr. Wang would be monitoring from outside of the door.

Arthur cringed at the thought of having to speak with that man anytime other than when he was- unwillingly- called on to answer a question. A million conversations with Alfred would be much better compared to a one-word exchange with that man. He would even consider it a blessing.

Thankfully, the hallways were mostly clear, save for a few stragglers waiting outside classroom doors for their friends to arrive or for the bell to ring. He knew that that would change by the time he was done with what he needed to do and that Vlad and Lukas would be waiting for them at their own claimed spot.

Arthur stopped in front of the library doors, having finally reached his destination. He took a quick peek through one of the floor-to-ceiling windows, checking for anyone familiar who could- and would- cause a problem if they were to see something. He grinned when he found no one.

He breathed in the soft smell of paper as he stepped into the library, allowing himself to close his eyes for a short second. A subtle, pointed cough from the librarian had Arthur opening them, and though he respectfully nodded, he shoved down the urge to sneer at her.

Adjusting the straps to his backpack, Arthur started walking, occasionally turning into an aisle to see as if he were actually looking to check out a book. He would come back later, he decided as he pulled a hardback from the shelf, scanning through the summary and taking note of the title and the author's name. Perhaps he would check it out this afternoon before he left campus.

Arthur took the time to carefully return the book to its designated spot, wincing at the screeching sound of the sleeve scratching against the wooden veneer. He looked around, checking to see if anyone was watching, only to let his shoulders slump when he realized that he was alone.

Excellent.

Ending his quick excursion, Arthur continued with the task at hand, slowly creeping down the side aisles, just as he had a few weeks prior. This time, the stealth factor was missing, partially due to the fact that the excitement of sneaking around the library had dulled after his second or third tutoring session with Alfred. Gone were those few days when he snuck through the aisles like a spy on an important retrieval mission, his steps as calculated as his path and his backpack kept quieter than the drop of a pin. He supposed that there was no need, considering that the current task at hand needed more thinking than anything.

Then again, Arthur had no clue if his target would be there. While he knew that he frequented the library in the afternoons, Arthur occasionally seeing him turn in or check out a stack of books at the library desk, that didn't necessarily mean that he would be here in the mornings, either. There was also the small, unfortunate chance that Heracles could be absent that day.

Arthur fluffed the possibility off, slapping a small grin on his face and nodding as a teacher strolled by, letting it fall the very second she passed him.

Checking the time on his phone, Arthur frowned when he noticed that he only had around ten minutes until he needed to leave. He started moving, only walking faster when he couldn't find Heracles in the spot where they had spoken previously. It wasn't until he had returned to walking down the side aisle that he had found him.

Until Heracles had found _him_ , really.

"Arthur, what do you want?"

Arthur stopped, whipping his head around to find Heracles sitting in one of the many loungers, a book propped open on his lap with his backpack on the floor next to the chair. He stared at Arthur with what could only be described as a glare, one filled to the brim with distaste.

Arthur grinned back, though he would be lying if he said that it had any joy or happiness to it. Dropping his backpack to the floor with a thump, he made himself comfortable in the chair adjacent to the one Heracles was in, crossing his legs and propping his head up with a fist.

"I have proof."

"Proof of what?"

Not bothering to verbally answer, Arthur lifted himself up from the chair, just long enough to grab his phone from his back pocket. He quickly typed in his password, swiping through his app library for his photo gallery.

Heracles stayed silent, lightly drumming his fingers against the arm of the chair while waiting. The slow tapping was unnerving, not that Arthur would mention that, and he clenched his free hand into a fist.

The specific screenshots weren't too hard to find, as they were the most recent additions to his blackmail folder, which these days was almost exclusively filled with the ugliest selfies of Vlad and Lukas that he could get his hands on. Grinning, he tapped on the first of the screenshots, waiting for the menu to close before turning it to Heracles.

The tapping stopped.

He leaned forward in his chair, his eyes darting like rapid-fire. Heracles lifted his hand, as if to take the phone, before stopping. "Can I?" Arthur nodded eagerly, all but pushing the phone into his hands.

Heracles scanned the screen, his thumb reaching to touch it, almost seeming like a habit. A rosy red started to spread across his cheeks.

"Swipe right when you're finished with that part." Arthur smiled, not letting it falter when Heracles sent a quick glare in his direction.

There was a reason that the text messages were screenshots and not in the actual messenger application. Arthur couldn't risk the chance that Heracles would want to take a quick stroll through his private life, unsatisfied with the small tidbit that he had shown him. Even a few messages above the designated area would show that the person speaking was someone who was very much not Kiku Honda.

Heracles swiped, restarting his scan, his eyes widening at some parts. When he finally reached the end, he frowned, looking up with a face that was anything but amused. "What the fuck is this, Kirkland?"

Arthur pretended to be offended as he took his phone back. "What do you mean? It is what it is."

Heracles slumped in the chair, putting his hand on his forehead. Letting out a loud sigh, he deflated, slowly shaking his head. Arthur sat there, waiting for him to finish with what he sincerely hoped wouldn't turn into a violent meltdown or temper tantrum. Heracles didn't really seem like the type, unlike a few people he knew, but Arthur always had to prepare for the worst.

And even the tiniest bit of yelling would be terrible for his cause. With the people in the library- teachers being a threat to avoid especially- just one person talking about it would cause a spread, one that would put a crushing boot on his plan when it was so close to being fully carried out.

Hand on his face, Heracles stayed completely still as he spoke, not even moving to make eye contact with Arthur. "And this is real?"

"Realer than any sick fantasy you've been conjuring up in that head of yours for God knows how long."

The blush grew to a darker red, and Heracles mumbled something, though Arthur couldn't hear a word, no matter how much he strained his ears. He supposed that he probably wouldn't want to hear it, considering the previous times he's been cursed at by various peers.

Sighing again, Heracles straightened his back, gripping his hands against the armrests of the chair to hold himself upright. He paused, as if a sudden thought had just crossed him, and whipped his head to Arthur, his eyebrows knitting together and his eyes narrowing.

"How do I know that you're not lying?"

Arthur huffed, finally giving into the temptation and rolling his eyes. He then remembered the part he was supposed to be playing and smiled, pretending as if nothing of the like had just happened. His smile grew wider at the small amount of fury splayed across Heracles' face. "Well, I suppose that you're just going to have to trust me. Oh, don't give me that look. What would I have to gain from lying to you about this?"

Nothing but pure satisfaction and the peace of knowing that he might ruin someone's life, really.

Though still a bit skeptical, Heracles seemed to consider this, his head bopping from side to side. Arthur gripped the edge of his chair, his smile becoming tense.

Remembering the time limit, Arthur picked up his phone from the spot he had left it on his thigh, clicking to open it. Two minutes. He had two minutes to make this work, two minutes before they both had to start heading towards their first period classes.

Teetering on the edge of manners, Arthur moved to pat Heracles on the arm. He seemed to stiffen under his touch, but Arthur pretended that he didn't notice. "You don't want to have to live with this after we graduate, do you? You want closure. And this here-" he held up his phone, giving it a little shake "-is your ticket to that closure. And who knows, it might- and will, considering the evidence- work in your favor. But you won't know until you go for it." He tried his best to sound soft. Sympathetic.

Even though he'd never- and will never- be in such a situation as this.

Heracles turned to Arthur, his mouth pursed into a tight line, his eyes swirling with something that Arthur couldn't place. "And if it doesn't work? Then what? I'm fucking screwed."

Arthur snorted, waving Heracles' concern away. "I'm absolutely sure that it'll work, and if it doesn't, you can apologize and go back to the way things were."

A frown. "You must not know Kiku well enough if you think that he can just pretend nothing ever happened."

"I know him well enough to know that he's not the type of person to just throw a friend away without hearing what they have to say, first." A leap of faith, one that he could only hope would hit true.

The bell rang. Multiple students stood, starting to pack their things, but Arthur and Heracles remained where they were.

"So, you have to decide now. What's it going to be? What are you going to do?"

Heracles sighed, running his fingers through his hair. After a half a minute, he spoke. "What's the plan?"

Arthur smiled, fully knowing that he had finally won. "Meet me this afternoon in the pit."

* * *

Hey, guys! Sorry for disappearing for five months! After I posted this last chapter, I got hit with a giant bout of writer's block, and by the time that was done and over with, I had December's secret santas and February birthday gifts to write! (I'm still working on one of the latter atm) So, unfortunately, Little Artie and his quest to ruin lives was put on the backburner :( I'll try to cut down the wait time for Chapter 14, but I can't make any promises.

But anyways, major announcement! Due to several requests in comments and that little survey I did a couple chapters back, I'm happy to say that after Cross Life, there will be a companion fic! This fic will be entirely in Alfred's POV, and while it will go over some scenes you see in CL (such as that one in the courtyard), there'll be a lot more new stuff, along with more appearances of some characters we've yet to meet, such as Alfred's family (who'll show up in the second part of the story).

Speaking of the second part of story, we're almost there! Chapter fourteen will finally reveal all of Arthur's plan, if you haven't guessed already! I'm pretty nervous, considering that I've been dragging this along for almost ten chapters, but I feel like that it's almost exactly something that a revenge-driven and petty high schooler would do. I can say that what will happen will come with some major consequences ::))

Don't be afraid to leave a comment saying what I need to work on! I've been trying some different sites to help with the bane of my existence that is proofreading, so we'll see how that goes. If you need to contact me, whether it's because you have a question or want to be spoiled (I'll tell you everything you want to know ::)) ) then just hit me up on Tumblr! My blog is RantingFangirl!

I'm sorry, my author's notes are pretty much longer than the actual chapters. Thank you guys for reading Cross Life Chapter Thirteen: Blue Light and I hope that you all have a wonderful morning, day, and evening!


	14. The Shedding of the Snake

The plan was simple, really. It surprised Arthur with how long it had taken him to get to the point where he currently was, but the long-term effort would produce long-term success, he supposed.

The three strolled down the hallway in a horizontal line, not particularly caring about the traffic they were causing, as the final bell had rung. Freshman and sophomores- Arthur being proud of himself that he could finally tell which grade went with which name- swarmed around them, casting angry looks and curses in their direction. Vlad stuck his tongue at one, laughing much to their infuriation.

Lukas shook his head, tsking at his friend's antics. "We could stand to go a bit faster, at least."

"It's the end of the day. They don't have any classes to get to." Vlad mimicked Lukas' movements as he spoke.

"No, only buses that'll leave in a few minutes."

Vlad frowned while Arthur stayed silent. The courtyard was fast approaching, along with the final stages of his plan. Arthur couldn't help but feel nervous, an unfamiliar tightness in his stomach and stiffness in his shoulder blades.

The group fell silent for all but two seconds until Vlad changed the subject. He clapped his hands together, rubbing his palms. Arthur cringed at the whisking sound it made. "So, are both of you down to come over to my place tonight?"

Lukas nodded.

Arthur frowned as Vlad turned, waiting for an answer. He pulled his phone out, clicking it open to check the time, before sliding it back into his pocket. "I haven't ask my mum yet, but she'll let me. Maybe." It wasn't necessary to mention the fact that he was currently grounded. He would take care of that.

Vlad laughed as they pushed the door open, the cold and biting air of the outside rushing in the lobby. It was even busier than the halls of the building they had just left, several overstuffed backpacks bumping into them as they broke their line into a cluster.

Arthur eyed the designated spot for his meeting with Heracles, sighing. He tipped his head back, eying the bleak and drab blue of the sky, brainstorming for a way that he could quickly end the current conversation and go where he needed to.

Breaking from their cluster, Arthur bee-lined towards the opposite direction, looking over his shoulder to see Vlad and Lukas following. He stopped at the concrete edge lining the pit, nearly hitting another student with his backpack as he turned.

He ignored the dirty look he received, instead focusing on Lukas and Vlad. "I have to go." They didn't say anything, waiting for him to continue, Lukas crossing his arms with a deadpan expression on his face. To make his excuse at least somewhat more believable, he reached for his phone. "I have Madrigal practice in…" he checked the time. "Five minutes."

More like twenty, but that wouldn't do anything to help his cause.

Vlad shook his head. "We can wait for you."

"It's going to be a few hours." That was the truth. Mr. Vargas had become increasingly stressed these past few weeks, his joking attitude turning into a strict frown in a span of seconds, his normally short and laid-back practices now long and filled with yelling and frustrated glares. "If I'm late, he's probably going to crucify me." Another truth, if a bit exaggerated.

"You're still coming over, right?" Arthur could've sworn that Vlad almost sounded disappointed.

He nodded, giving the two what he hoped would be a reassuring smile. "Yes, of course. I'll go straight home, get my stuff, and hurry over to your place." Arthur nodded again, cementing his plans.

Arthur checked his phone again, sighing. "I really have to go now. I'll be late." He readjusted the straps of his backpack, beginning his trek towards the designated spot, conveniently placed in the direction of the choir room, and, even better, out of plain sight. "Bye."

Not bother to turn back towards them while he was walking, Arthur took the stairs two at a time, sliding down onto the cold concrete. He scanned the crowd pouring out of the second-floor lobby, waiting for a certain person to walk through one of the double doors. It then occurred to Arthur that he had no idea where Heracles' seventh-period class was and, in addition, didn't have his phone number to ask.

But maybe that would be a good thing in the long run, with what he was about to do.

He shook his head, cursing himself for not bothering to ask that morning. It was a stupid mistake, one that he definitely wouldn't have made at the beginning of the semester. Arthur tugged at his khakis, his annoyance with the loose fabric suddenly renewed. Frowning, he rubbed the seam between his index finger and thumb, squeezing tight and pulling it away from his thigh and wrapping it under. It looked much better when it was tighter, and Arthur started to weigh the pros and cons of taking his mother's sewing kit and starting a secret little project.

"Arthur?"

He snapped his head up to see Heracles standing there, eyebrows raised and eyes wide, his lips curled into a grimace. Curiosity, with maybe a hint of judgment. Heracles narrowed his eyes, tipping his head and opening his mouth to speak.

"You're late." Arthur cut him off before he could go any further, pushing himself to his feet. He brushed off the back of his pants before checking the time, his frown growing. "We were supposed to start two minutes ago." Another lie, but he wanted to get this done as soon as possible.

Heracles scoffed. "Being two minutes late isn't going to kill you. And what? You got somewhere to be?"

"Truth and lies" was the mantra that Arthur constantly chanted to himself, a Mother Kirkland special that Arthur had learned by watching and practicing rather than listening. He debated about telling Heracles about his role in the Madrigal choir, running through his head what could be used against him with that small bit of information.

He realized that Heracles was staring at him as they walked through the doors into the second-floor lobby. Arthur stopped, rapidly blinking his eyes, pretending to have just spaced out. "I'm sorry?"

Heracles sighed, starting up their walk again, but this time, much slower. "I was asking if you had somewhere to be." Arthur nodded, making a high humming sound and bopping his head side to side.

"I have to be at the choir room for Madrigals in-" he checked the time- "Fifteen minutes."

Heracles slowed into a stroll, Arthur following. The former turned his head towards him as they walked, cocking it to the side just a little, his eyebrows knitting together. "Madrigals? You mean that fancy choir thing with the old-time-y costumes?" Arthur nodded, not bother to speak, waiting for Heracles to continue on. "Ah, I went to go see the show last year. I don't think I saw you. Did you just get in this year?"

"I moved to the country over the summer."

"Odd."

"What do you mean?"

Heracles made a humming noise, tipping his head back. The two fell silent, the only noise a distant echo of cheerleaders practicing in the large gym.

Arthur checked his phone, frowning. Three minutes off schedule. He picked up the pace, not bothering to turn to check if Heracles was following, trusting the clicking of shoes echoing off the walls.

He winced at the way his backpack jostled as the two went down a steep yet small set of stairs, one that Arthur always feared he would end up tripping down. Behind him, he heard Heracles let out a breath and Arthur braved himself for the question he knew was eventually going to come.

"So, what exactly is the plan?"

It was Arthur's turn to sigh, but he didn't stop or even start to slow as they sharply turned the corner. He quickly thought of a way to break it to him, settling on giving it to him straight and blunt, without serving it to him on any silver platter."You walk up to him, tell him you like him, and grab him and kiss him before he can run away in horror." Not entirely thought through in the way that he normally would plan such things, but it would work.

Provided that his new "friend" actually went along with it.

Heracles froze. Sighing inwardly, Arthur stopped his walk as well, turning to face the former. He crossed his arms, waiting for the inevitable, something he realized he probably should have prepared for.

"That's the plan?"

"Yes. Is there a problem?"

Heracles' mouth gaped before snapping shut. He slowly slid his jaw side to side, his eyes narrowing. When he spoke, it came out in a harsh whisper, almost like a hiss. "That is the stupidest idea I've ever heard."

Arthur shrugged. "But it will be effective." Hopefully. They had only one chance to get this right, and if his something were to go wrong…

Arthur would have to start the entire plan over again. He clenched his jaw.

Heracles still seemed unconvinced, shaking his head. "And how, exactly, do you think this will work?" his foot tapped impatiently on the tile, and he deadpanned as he spoke.

Arthur pushed down the strong urge to punch Heracles straight in the jaw, or maybe the throat, flexing his fingers into a closed fist and back into an open palm. He noticed Heracles eying his hand, but ignored it. Let him think whatever he wants.

"Well," Arthur tried his best to keep his voice cool and leveled. Gone were the days he could beat his way through his problems, no matter how much he yearned for them back. He resumed his walk, not caring at that point where or not Heracles followed. "If- when you kiss him, if he goes along with it, then you have your answer, and if he pushes you away…"

He trailed off, allowing Heracles to be able to come to his own conclusion. The latter, who was- surprisingly- still following him, sighed, and Arthur turned back to see him pushing his fingers through his hair.

Arthur expected some angered denial or maybe for Heracles to leave without saying a single word. Instead, he got a: "I don't understand. Why wouldn't he just come up and tell me? It doesn't make sense."

He inwardly cursed himself. "Lad, he has a boyfriend. A boyfriend who has friends everywhere. Telling you outright wouldn't really be good for either of you."

Either he didn't hear it or he ignored it, as Heracles stayed silent, the only noise in the hall being the scuffing of their shoes against the tile. Arthur took the time to bring up his mental map of the school, bopping his head side to side as he calculated their trip.

They had just entered the north portion of the second floor, the library taking up the entirety of the west portion. Heracles had told him earlier that morning that Kiku would be there, waiting for Alfred. That gave them two more minutes, at the maximum, of walking.

He pulled out his phone, once again checking the time. Arthur had to be sitting in his seat at the choir room in ten minutes.

"So you are positive that Kiku will be in the library?" Absolutely positive?" Arthur decided that he would actually punch Heracles if they walked in and didn't see him. Maybe even throw him into one of the rows of computers, if he felt like it.

Heracles nodded, making a humming sound. "He's usually here waiting when Alfred has a club or sports meet. They switch off taking each other home." Arthur didn't say anything about the clear jealously laced in Heracles' words. He held down a laugh, biting his lower lip.

"So, when we get there, you're going-" Arthur stopped as he saw Kiku start to turn the corner, grabbing Heracles and pulling them both out of sight.

He didn't dare peek around the corner, staying still and listening as Kiku spoke. "Hello?" His voice echoed off the walls. "Heracles?"

Arthur cursed, looking at Heracles. The latter's eyes were wide, his cheeks turning into a rosy red.

It was time. Arthur mouthed the words "Go for the" before hitting his hand against his open mouth, making a soft popping sound. Heracles nodded, his blush growing even darker, if that was possible.

And then, without giving him any time to prepare, Arthur shoved Heracles into the thick of it, keeping a straight face even as he stumbled.

Heracles froze before taking a deep breath, a large smile spreading across his face. "Kiku! What's up?"

Active frowned as he glanced in his direction, but had to hold down a snicker as Heracles' voice seemed to go up half an octave higher. The latter clasped his arm behind his back, his fingers twitching and fidgeting.

He couldn't see Kiku without compromising his position, but Arthur could hear him clearly. Paying close attention to the starting conversation, he tapped his fingers lightly against his thigh, praying to any powerful deity out there that Heracles wouldn't mess this up.

"I'm going down to the office to make copies for the librarian." A light creaking sound of paper being held up. "The copier in the library is out of toner."

"Ah." Arthur peered over the corner to see Heracles nodding. Kiku started to continue walking, but Heracles stepped in his way, holding his hand out. "Hey, so, before you go. Can I talk to you for a second?"

Kiku nodding his head was the last thing Arthur saw before he looked away from the scene in front of him.

"So, uh, I saw your texts." Arthur frowned as he gently set his backpack on the floor, careful to make as little noise as possible. He slowly lowered it, holding onto the strap, cringing when it collapsed against the tile floor. Quietly cursing, he quickly checked over the corner. They hadn't noticed.

"Heracles, I-"

"Can I just get this all out for a second?" the nerves in Heracles' voice were obvious, though Arthur was a bit disappointed at the fact that Kiku wasn't able to finish his sentence. If he had said that he hadn't been the one to send those texts or that he had no clue what Heracles was talking about…

Suspension and record be damned, Arthur would've pounded him into the wall.

He pulled out his cell phone from his pocket, tugging his sweater back down to prevent any wrinkles. Arthur pushed his sleeves up, an itch that he thought had faded months ago flaring up on his forearms. He scratched his arm, returning to the conversation.

"And, I've liked you for awhile now- God, this is so embarrassing." Heracles' words were quickly spat out. He laughed with more breath than sound, and Arthur could only think that it sounded fake. "And I know that you're with Alfred, I'm so painfully aware, and if you're happy, I'll be happy, too."

Arthur couldn't help but grin, inching his way past the corner and towards the two. As he opened up the camera app on his phone, he noticed Kiku with his arms crossed and shoulders tense. Heracles stood across from him, his blush reaching to the roots of his hair and down to the bottom of his neck. He quickly glanced over in Arthur's direction before returning his attention to Kiku, clasping his hands together.

"So, um, I'm sorry." It happened quickly. As Heracles gently grabbed Kiku's wrist, Arthur saw a wave of guilt spread across his face, but it was too late. Arthur focused his camera as Heracles kissed Kiku, slamming his thumb against the button to take the photo. He stepped to the side, seeing if he could get another with a better angle. It wouldn't matter if he was seen now.

As soon as his phone vibrated, Kiku pushed Heracles away. The latter hit the wall, his backpack making a crunching sound, and Arthur couldn't help but cringe.

Grabbing his backpack from the floor, Arthur hauled it over his shoulder. He checked the time, grinning at the fact that he still had ten minutes left. Starting to walk, he retraced his steps on route to the choir room. Slowing his pace for a moment, he let his curiosity get the best of him, turning his head over his shoulder.

The last thing he saw before turning the corner was seeing Heracles slide down the wall, hiding a lost and regretful expression by covering his face with his hands.

* * *

Spiders crawled down Arthur's back and arms as he walked to the courtyard. He rolled his shoulders, the weight of his backpack slowing his movements somewhat.

He had asked Lukas to invite Mathias to their table that morning for lunch, and he supposed that the former would think it would be for some "couple's counseling". Which would be unnecessary, anyway, considering that he remembered seeing the two with their lips locked on their way to third period.

Arthur winced at the memory.

Just to be safe, however, Arthur had texted Vlad his plans for their "counseling" session, or at least, the portion where Arthur would not be starting the final stage of his plan. His friend had seemed excited, saying that he would make an outline in one of his free periods to drive the conversation. A bit overboard, but it would work.

He waved when he saw his friends sitting at their table, their short-sleeves and skinny jeans replaced with fleece jackets and sweatpants. It was getting cold, they would have to move inside soon.

Arthur dropped his backpack on the concrete next to his usual seat, digging through his medium-sized pocket for food. Making a small humming noise, he pulled out the blue package and tossed it on the table. He resumed his search, this time for water bottles. "Mathias, I hope you like Christmas Oreos."

Mathias nodded. "They're always better when they're shaped like Santa Claus. I like to eat the head first." Vlad laughed, waving Lukas off when the latter gently nudged his boyfriend in the side. Arthur couldn't help but grin.

Pulling the package in his direction, Vlad flipped it over, wincing at the sound of cookies crashing against each other. He scanned the back, a habit never explained, though Arthur supposed that he was just curious or maybe used the nutrition facts as a source of reading material. When he was done, Vlad nodded, humming, and slowly pushed the package towards the middle. "I have to say, Arthur, this is quite an upgrade from your usual."

Arthur clicked his tongue. "Indeed. My mother was feeling generous at the supermarket last night." It was true, technically. Peter had begged and begged for them after seeing a giant Christmas display at the store, and his mother, being who she was, told him to pick out whatever he liked. Nevermind that Arthur had been told no when he asked for new pencils and lead.

He grinned. Unfortunately for Peter, Arthur woke up first.

Mathias looked around the table, frowning. He leaned in towards Lukas, speaking in a soft whisper. "What does he usually bring?"

"Anything that I can grab from the pantry and run away with before I'm dragged back in." He pulled out the fourth and final water bottle, tossing it on the table with a thump. "That could be chips, cereal, a granola bar-"

Vlad cut him off. "There was one time when he brought leftovers."

"Chinese takeout leftovers," Lukas added.

Arthur shrugged as he sat down, turning himself to face those at the table. Vlad stared at him, as if to see what he would say next, and Mathias sat still, looking uncomfortable. "Well, you ate it. It wasn't that bad. We have those fucking microwaves in the cafeteria, why not put them to use?"

Lukas cringed. "Do you know how often they clean those things?"

"Once a year- in August before the school year starts." Mathias nodded as he spoke, a large smile spreading across his face as he wrapped his arm around Lukas. "And when you heat up your lunch, you get that nice whiff and added taste of everything that's ever been cooked in it. It's magical." He pressed his fingers up to his lips, kissing them before spreading his hand into an open palm. Lukas gagged.

Vlad snickered, shaking his head and covering his mouth with his hand. He paused for a moment, his eyes growing wide, and Arthur knew that he had gotten an idea. "So, you two." He scooted in his seat towards the table, crossing his arms and resting his chin on his uncovered wrist. When he spoke, it was slow and deliberate, sounding slightly breathless. "Speaking of wonderful, how's the old relationship going?"

Arthur rolled his eyes. He sent a pointed glare in Vlad's direction, not spending any effort to attempt to make it subtle, receiving a quick wink in return. Of course, his friend wouldn't take any time to try and gently nip the situation in the bud. Not when it needed to be sugar-coated.

Lukas froze, shifting his attention to Arthur. He mouthed the words, "You told him?", and before Arthur could answer, Vlad nodded.

"Not everything, but enough."

Frowning, Lukas' shoulder slumped. He glanced over to Mathias, who was staring at him with knitted eyebrows, his smile having faded. Arthur cringed and couldn't help but feel sorry for his friend.

Shrugging at Mathias' stare, he pulled the Oreo package towards him. He grabbed the pink resealable tab at the side, pulling it all the way to the other side, revealing rows upon rows of Santa Claus shaped cookies. Lukas grabbed one from the middle, letting out a quick, "I think it's going great. Mathias?" before popping it into his mouth. Arthur noticed that he bit the head off first.

Mathias nodded, squeezing Lukas' shoulder. "Of course!" He smiled at the latter, looking like he just came from one of those cheesy Hallmark films that his mother binged every Sunday evening. Arthur crinkled his nose, trying his best to keep the cringe to a minimum. "I couldn't ask for anyone better." Mathias tugged Lukas closer to him, and from the corner of his eye, Arthur could see Vlad wince.

The two went in for a kiss and Arthur looked away, shaking his head. He took his time scanning his surroundings, his eyes moving from table to table before finally landing on the one on the other side of the courtyard. The group looked like they normally did, laughing and occasionally tossing bits of food at each other. Arthur noticed the arm Alfred had around Kiku, just like the one Mathias had around Lukas.

He also noticed Kiku slowly trying to inch his way from Alfred's touch.

Arthur smirked. He reached into his back pocket for his phone, running his thumb against the ridges of his case. Pulling it out, he gently set it on the table, the back of his case facing the sky.

Kiku turned in his direction, making eye contact with him. Arthur let his grin widen, showing some teeth. He chuckled when he saw Kiku pale as if he realized what, exactly, had happened a few days prior. Arthur shook his head, lightly tapping the table.

"Arthur?" He blinked, turning to see Vlad staring at him, along with Lukas and Mathias, unbridled concern on their faces. "You ok, bud?"

He smiled sheepishly, trying his best to seem embarrassed that he was caught. Scratching the back of his neck, Arthur went slow as he spoke, making sure to take multiple pauses in between his words. "Sorry. I was, um, I was thinking about stuff."

Vlad cocked his head to the side. "Stuff? What kind of-" He stopped, pausing for a few moments before letting a large and cheeky grin spread across his cheeks. "Were you thinking about-" he then mouthed Alfred's name, and Arthur shook his head.

He was just about to snap at his friend, just about to tell him for perhaps the thirtieth time in the past month that he could fuck off about Alfred, when an idea popped into his head. Arthur frowned, sighing and glancing at his phone.

"I was heading to Madrigal practice Friday afternoon, you know, after I left you two." Vlad and Lukas both nodded, Mathias leaning in, bracing his forearms on the edge of the table. "Well, I was walking and-" He huffed, letting his shoulders deflate, trying his best to make his act seem as convincible as possible. Arthur grabbed his phone, clicking it open and instinctively typing in his password, one that was long and complicated, designed to keep any prying eyes- his mother specifically- out. The photo gallery was already open, running in the background. He tapped it open, swiping to the picture he had taken three days prior. He slid it to the three.

Arthur had to hold back his smile at the sharp intake from Mathias, softly biting the insides of his cheeks to keep the frown strong. Mathias lifted his arm from Lukas' shoulders, reaching forward to pull Arthur's phone closer. He looked up. "What is this?"

The photo was perfect. The edges were a bit blurred due to Arthur's haste to take it, but that only served in adding an extra element to it. The point he was trying to make was present, and there, in the middle, was Heracles and Kiku, their lips locked in what seemed to be a passionate kiss. And, even better, in Arthur's opinion, was the fact that he had managed to take the picture while Kiku was in mid-blink, giving the illusion of his eyes being closed. It was perfect, absolutely perfect, and Arthur almost had the nerve to pat himself on the back.

Arthur shook his head, resting his elbows on the table and covering his face with his hands. "I- I just saw them in the hallway like that." He looked up, making sure to hook his fingers slightly so they would pull at his cheeks. Arthur sighed. "I'm so sorry."

Mathias stood, almost tripping over the bench. "Can you sent that to Lukas so he can send it to me?" Arthur nodded, taking back his phone. He stayed silent as he opened up the messenger app, listening to Mathias as the latter continued speaking. "Fucking Kiku. I knew that he and Alfred were going through a rough spot, but this. I didn't fucking expect this." He huffed, rotating himself around in a small circle. Mathias mumbled something, but it was too quiet for Arthur to hear.

Vlad shrugged, reaching for and taking three Oreo cookies from the package. He took a large bite out of one, holding the other two, using his free hand to cover his mouth as he spoke. "I always knew that there was something going on with one of those two. They never looked like they were happy with each other." The corners of his eyes wrinkled. "Not like you two do."

Everyone at the table ignored him as Lukas' phone buzzed. Lukas picked it up, and not too long after, a pinging sound came from Mathias' pocket.

Mathias clicked open his phone, nodding at what he saw. He leaned in towards Lukas, kissing him on the cheek before letting out a quiet yet audible "Thanks, babe".

Lukas turned around in his seat, the three watching as Mathias stalked over to his usual table. Arthur grinned as Mathias started yelling at Kiku, who stayed seated at the table, a guilty look on his face. Alfred stood from his seat, stepping in between the two, putting his hands on Mathias' shoulders and slightly pushing him back.

The pit fell silent as everyone stopped eating to watch, Arthur hearing an underclassman ask what was happening behind him. Arthur covered his mouth with his hand, if only to hide his smile, and scooted closer to the table.

Vlad cursed and shook his head when Mathias opened his phone, showing Alfred the photo. The confused and annoyed look on Alfred's face slackened, and Arthur swore that he would've seen the blood drain from his cheeks if he were closer. Alfred froze before gently taking Mathias' phone from his hand, dipping his head and staring. Alfred looked up, a strand of hair bobbing up and down, saying something to Mathias that left his friends, along with Kiku, straining to hear. Mathias replied, nodding his head.

Alfred turned to Kiku, the latter not meeting his gaze. The entire courtyard could hear when Alfred yelled for him to burn in hell, and watched as he stalked back inside the building, Kiku getting up to follow. Vlad chuckled, only to stop when Lukas sent a glare towards his direction. Arthur shared a look with Vlad, silently communicating to his friend that he, too, was having a lot of fun. Even if it was for a very, very different reason.

Arthur sighed, hunching over the table and grinning. He sat up straight, stretching his back, and pumped his fist into the air, not caring if anyone saw and took note.

The plan was done and over with, executed in such a way that made those long months of preparation seem worth it.

* * *

Hey, guys! Before I start, I would just like to say that I do not condone the actions of Heracles in this chapter. Please, please get permission to kiss someone before you do so. It'll save you a whole lot of trouble if you respect someone's personal space and wishes.

Also, for all of y'all who read Cross Life on Fanfiction (yes, that's you guys!), I am super, super sorry that I forgot to put in the author's note last chapter! I'll be sure to stick that in there along with putting it under this one. Be sure to read! Super big announcement!

Now that that's done and over with, the big plan is finally revealed! I hope you guys liked it, the consequences of it will basically cover the entirety of the second half of the story, including the romance ::))

Speaking of the second half, next chapter will seem like a filler, but it's not! Plus, there'll be a surprise Alfred POV in it (Well, a surprise for those who don't read my notes), so that's definitely a reason! This will be the only time in Cross Life that the POV switches from Arthur, and it's also going to act as a sort-of prep for Mega-Watt, which is the current name for Alfred's companion fic.

Speaking of Alfred, Arthur does not have any feelings for him yet! Some people have been wondering and I just want to make that clear!

Anyways, please, please comment what you think about the events of this chapter! I'm super nervous about how it's going to go over.

I hope you have an amazing morning, day, and evening and I will see you next time for Chapter Fifteen: Feast!

(Also I think that Arthur would call a lot of people 'Lad". P funny, imo)

* * *

 **This is the A/N from Chapter 13**

Hey, guys! Sorry for disappearing for five months! After I posted this last chapter, I got hit with a giant bout of writer's block, and by the time that was done and over with, I had December's secret santas and February birthday gifts to write! (I'm still working on one of the latter atm)So, unfortunately, Little Artie and his quest to ruin lives was put on the backburner :( I'll try to cut down the wait time for Chapter 14, but I can't make any promises.

But anyways, major announcement! Due to several requests in comments and that little survey I did a couple chapters back, I'm happy to say that after Cross Life, there will be a companion fic! This fic will be entirely in Alfred's POV, and while it will go over some scenes you see in CL (such as that one in the courtyard), there'll be a lot more new stuff, along with more appearances of some characters we've yet to meet, such as Alfred's family (who'll show up in the second part of the story).

Speaking of the second part of story, we're almost there! Chapter fourteen will finally reveal all of Arthur's plan, if you haven't guessed already! I'm pretty nervous, considering that I've been dragging this along for almost ten chapters, but I feel like that it's almost exactly something that a revenge-driven and petty high schooler would do. I can say that what will happen will come with some major consequences ::))

Don't be afraid to leave a comment saying what I need to work on! I've been trying some different sites to help with the bane of my existence that is proofreading, so we'll see how that goes. If you need to contact me, whether it's because you have a question or want to be spoiled (I'll tell you everything you want to know ::)) ) then just hit me up on Tumblr! My blog is RantingFangirl!

I'm sorry, my author's notes are pretty much longer than the actual chapters. Thank you guys for reading Cross Life Chapter Thirteen: Blue Light and I hope that you all have a wonderful morning, day, and evening!


	15. Feast

Francis Bonnefoy was king. Of the Madrigals, at least.

It irked Arthur to no end to see him strut around their dressed rehearsals with that plastic faux gold crown, flexing his fingers just at the thought of it. The pure looks of wonder on the freshmen volunteers' faces as he helped them set tables and bring out glasses of water and iced tea was annoying, to say the very least. Seeing a group of girls wave to him and giggle amongst themselves was ridiculous.

The worst part was how much everyone seemed to like him. Nevermind that he was an obnoxious and arrogant tenor who sang with a squeaky, unnecessary vibrato.

Sitting in the men's dressing room, Arthur lounged on a loveseat sofa, watching as his fellow choir members scurried back and forth in attempt to neaten their hair or put the finishing touches on their uniforms. Perfection was a must, in Mr. Vargas' own words, Arthur having to go through an inspection upon telling his choir director that he had come to the church in full costume.

It was especially awkward, considering that Mr. Vargas himself was dressed only in bottoms and a dingy t-shirt.

"Francis! How ya doing, bud?" Alfred grinned, Arthur watching as he patted Francis on the back. He had seemed relatively normal this past week, given the recently occurred incident. Well, normal save for the puffy eyes when walking into fourth period and his supposed self-exile from his social group.

They had gotten the news from Mathias the day after Arthur executed the final stages of the plan, that Alfred had deleted all of his social media accounts and hadn't been responding to any texts or calls from friends. It was rash, and a bit ridiculous, really, but there was something about it that made Arthur grin at the thought.

Francis smiled, turning and hugging Alfred from the side. He grabbed his shoulders before stepping back, looking Alfred up and down, his smile widening to show slightly crooked teeth. "Great, but you." Francis patted Alfred's shoulders. "I should be asking how you're doing."

Alfred's smile faltered, but it was quickly back up, stronger than it was before. He cocked his head to the side, running this tongue over his upper lip. "I don't know what you mean."

A disappointed tsk. "I think you know exactly what I'm talking about. How are you holding up?"

"I'm doing great. I don't even think about it anymore, really." Alfred grinned, and from the sour expression that swept across Francis' face, Arthur knew that he was not alone in thinking that it looked fake.

Francis opened his mouth to speak, but Alfred gently shook his head, so slowly that Arthur barely noticed. The former frowned, staring at Alfred's hand as he moved to gently pat his shoulder. "See you later, bud."

Arthur quickly snatched his phone from the arm of the loveseat as Alfred turned in his direction. He tapped it open, scrolling through his app gallery.

Alfred's pace slowed as he walked towards the loveseat. He sent Arthur a close-lipped smile upon seeing him, along with a nod of acknowledgment towards his direction. Arthur smirked, scanning him in a similar way that Francis did. He clicked off his phone, setting it screen-first on his thigh.

"Alfred."

Alfred paused, clasping his hands behind his back and slightly tilting his head to Arthur's left. "Arthur."

Moving so that he only took up one of the loveseat's cushions, Arthur crossed his knee over his other, his nose twitching at the uncomfortable feeling of wool tights rubbing against each other. He lightly tapped the cushion next to him, a silent and subtle invitation to sit.

"You look nice."

It was the truth. While Arthur's costume was a balance of green and brown, a midnight blue and white dominated Alfred's. Silver embroidered diamonds scaled down his tunic, a white, smaller version of Lukas' collar from Halloween attached to his cape. A shuffle of feet brought his attention to snow white tights, making Arthur realize that they must have gone to the same tailor.

Alfred pulled his velvet cape back, his gloved hands- Black and leather, what seemed to be the exact same pair he wore on Halloween- clenching the seams. He looked down before snapping his head up, his eyes narrowing.

Arthur grinned.

Sighing, Alfred uncharacteristically frowned, and when he spoke, it was soft and brittle, exhaustion seeping into his words. "Please, Arthur. Don't you pity me like everyone else does."

It was Arthur's turn to frown. He sat up in his seat, bracing his elbows on his knees. He deadpanned. "What do you mean by that?" Arthur put extra emphasis on the last word, sharply cutting off the "t".

Alfred' shoulders visibly deflated. He reached up, pulling the black hat on his head down. When he finally opened his mouth to speak, he was cut off.

The doorknob slammed into the milky cream colored wall as Mr. Vargas stalked into the room. Everyone fell silent at the sight of him, stopping what they were doing and waiting for instructions.

He looked around the room, scowling, his brow creasing and his eyes narrowing. "What the hell are y'all doing standing around in here? You were supposed to be lined up five minutes ago." His voice gave off a slight echo, making a few in the room wince.

Mr. Vargas quickly left, leaving the door open, and a few moments later, three loud knocks echoed down the hall from the direction of the women's dressing room.

Arthur stood from his seat, quickly shutting down his phone and shoving it in his bag. When Alfred began to move from his current spot, Arthur lurched forward and grabbed his shoulder, careful to not put any strain on the soft expensive fabric.

Alfred jumped when Arthur touched him, stilling when the latter pulled him back. "We'll continue this later." Alfred barely let out a nod when Arthur released him.

Walking away, Arthur didn't bother with any pleasantries with Francis, ignoring the dagger-sharp glare sent in his direction. He was the first out the door, the plush carpet crunching under his shoes as he straightened the feathery hat on his head.

The back lobby was silent, save for the soft scuffling of flats. Arthur moved out form the doorway, stepping towards the wall and pausing. He scanned the room, which was rather large, in search for his partner.

A flash of movement in his peripheral brought Arthur's attention to Michelle, who waved at him with a toothy grin. He nodded back to her in acknowledgment, strolling towards her.

"Arthur." When she spoke, her words ended in an upwards lilt, and she curtsied, holding up her skirts as she slowly dipped down. When she rose, she let go of them, the fabric dropped and settling about an inch from the floor.

The women in the choir dressed, of course, under the same theme as the men- their dresses were heavily inspired by those of the sixteenth century, with colorful yet muted fabric and long, open sleeves. During a dress rehearsal earlier that week, Michelle had disclosed to him that the dresses were actually split into two pieces, the skirt using a small zipper to detach from the bodice for easy driving.

How they managed to hide the zipper, he had no clue, but the idea was brilliant.

"Michelle." He nodded his head once again, but didn't bother to bow in response to her curtsy. Clasping his hands together in front of him, the two quickly moved to their spot in line, Michelle lifting her skirt as they weaved through the quiet and growing crowd of Madrigal singers.

When she spoke again, it was in a soft whisper, so as to not grab the attention of those in the banquet hall beyond. "Did you hear about what happened with Alfred?" She looked at him, waiting for a nod before continuing. "I mean, they were already together when I came here as a freshman, and that just makes it that much more depressing."

Michelle was a junior, though he had learned from one of their chats during breaks from practice that she was actually supposed to be a sophomore, having skipped the sixth grade at her parents' request.

She fell silent, leaning back behind Arthur to stare across the lobby, towards the second line. Mr. Vargas was nowhere to be found. "And look at him over there!" Her voice sounded like that of a scolding mother as she nodded her head in Alfred's direction, who was part of the second to last pair to enter the hall. "Poor thing, he looks absolutely miserable."

In actuality, Alfred looked exactly like he normally did, smiling and happily chatting with his partner. Arthur didn't bother to point that out to Michelle, if only to avoid a loud and angry soprano in his ear later. He shook his head, if only to play along, leaning slightly to the side to help keep quiet. "Do we know who took the photo?"

Anything to keep the suspicion off of him, he figured.

Michelle shook her head, clicking her tongue. "Nope, Not at all. Some people think it was Mathias who got it, you know- because he was the one who reportedly showed it to Alfred." Arthur nodded, thanking any powerful deity that would listen for Michelle having the second lunch period instead of the first. "Me? I think he got it from someone else. Someone I know heard that he got it through text, but I don't know who it would be."

A shout in the banquet hall silenced the crowd. The freshmen servers had begun their act, and the choir would soon be starting their own.

He turned to Michelle, who was silently mouthing the words along with the freshmen, a nostalgic look on her face. Arthur nudged her in the side, offering her a crooked elbow, watching as she looped her arm around it. The other singers started doing the same around them.

"Excuse me." The jester of their make-believe court, a small sophomore whose name he couldn't remember, quietly pushed passed them. She stalked through the arched entrance before breaking into a skip, the small yellow bells attached to her costume softly ringing through the hall.

Arthur watched as she stopped in front of the dais, giving a loud and echoing speech before skipping off into the background. Mr. Vargas took her place, in full costume, a lightly decorated microphone in his hand.

He nodded to someone in the back of the hall and the music grew softer, changing to a different yet similar tune. Arthur watched as his fellow singers bristled, his own shoulders stiffening.

"King Rey, Queen Reine." Mr. Vargas' voice was gentle yet strong as he called out the names. Arthur watched as Francis swiftly adjusted the crown on his head before strolling into the hall with Elizabeta, an alto who Mr. Vargas claimed to have more spunk and grit than anything.

The two weaved through the giant cluster of tables, nodding to anyone who met their eye. Mr. Vargas watched them with a keen eye, and Arthur supposed that he was taking mental notes to use as ammo against them later.

When they reached the dais, they stopped and turned, moving their heads slowly and dramatically, scanning the audience. Elizabeta smirked as she turned to the right, Francis following as they scaled the dais, making their way to the top before sitting on the two thrones.

Mr. Vargas nodded, looking pleased.

He called the next pair, and when they were on the halfway mark to their destination, Mr. Vargas called the next. The pattern went on for several turns, another pair or trio taking the place of the previous group. Eventually, Arthur found himself at the front.

"Lord Limey, Lady Yankee." Laughter spread like a wave through the banquet hall, and Arthur could hear Michelle herself try to hold in a snort. That was an odd change, he noted, considering that she had asked him several times if the title offended him, even going to the point of threatening to have Mr. Vargas change it if Arthur found it, in her own words, "grossly distasteful."

He kept his chin up as they walked their designated path. Unlike Francis, Arthur didn't bother nodding to anyone, looking straight towards the dais.

The marked path was a small and narrow opening between the circular tables. It was a pain in the ass to maneuver, especially when the chairs were pushed out, Arthur trying his hardest to concentrate on not tripping. Michelle's grip around his elbow tightened. She must have been having the same struggles.

They reached the halfway point, which was marked by a green "X" on the floor made out of duct tape and an oddly lit Christmas tree past the tables. Arthur vaguely heard Mr. Vargas call the next pair, focusing instead on getting to the dais.

The dais was three layers of benches and tables, the two thrones in the middle of the third and top row. When they reached the bottom, Arthur put his left foot forward and his right hand back and bowed, Michelle doing a more elaborate version of the curtsy she performed in the lobby.

When they were finished, they linked elbows once again, making their way to their seats.

Looking out in the crowd, Arthur almost immediately spotted his mother, who was sipping on water from a wine glass. She sent a pleasant, almost supportive-looking smile in his direction, but he ignored it. Across from her, Vlad and Lukas sat, the former waving to him.

Arthur couldn't help but smile, feeling tempted to risk Mr. Vargas' wrath and wave back.

His attention was brought back to the event at hand when Alfred sat next to him. The wooden bench creaked from under him, a small blush rising on Alfred's cheeks. They made eye contact with one another for a brief second before Alfred whipped his head away, looking towards Mr. Vargas.

The final group, a trio, sat down, one forced to go up a row upon finding the bottom-most bench filled. A sound from Mr. Vargas' harmonica filled the room. Their starting note.

The entire choir to a deep yet quiet breath, the noise almost silent, an odd feeling swelling and rising through the hall. And then they started singing.

Arthur supposed that he was lucky for having a low voice, considering the majority of his part was waiting for several measures before singing a few disconnected words or harmonizing with the tenors. Michelle, on the other hand, sang for the entirety of the song, her only times to breathe being short, eighth-note rests, which were barely a half of a second.

After the first song was finished, they began on the second and then the third, singing non-stop until the first set of lines came.

As Francis stood, Arthur turned to face him with the rest of the choir, careful not to show his entire back to the audience. "Ladies and gentlemen, friends and family." He took a long pause, scanning the audience, and Arthur almost thought that he would take the time to gaze lovingly into each set of eyes. In the back of the hall, standing next to the area set aside for the freshmen, Mr. Vargas rolled his wrist, telling him to move faster. "Gathered here are we all, to celebrate in this grand and beautiful banquet hall."

Arthur could hear the muffled laughter from Alfred as Elizabeta stood, resting her hand on Francis' left shoulder. "And to all of this holiday cheer, we hope that it will gladly stay with us through the new year."

They both took a step forward, the tips of their toes hanging off the wooden block. When they spoke again it was in unison. "And with that we must say-" Elizabeta slightly lifted her arms, the queue for the rest of the choir to join in.

"Let us have a happy feast!" Arthur stood as he said it, as with everyone else, and he couldn't help but wonder what the members of the audience were thinking. Wonder if they had long clocked out or if they were analyzing their every move.

The choir sat in unison, a sound echoing through the room that was not unlike that of soldiers saluting. Arthur remained as the only one standing.

"M'lord-" Arthur thickened his accent, several surprised gasps coming from the audience as a result. He couldn't help but smile as an elderly woman exclaimed, "How authentic!". The spotlight shifted over to him, and Arthur resisted the temptation of narrowing his eyes. "M'lord, what have the kitchens prepared for us this fine evening?"

A soprano from the other side of the dais stood. Her platinum hair moved with her as she swayed, and she clasped her hands over her heart as she spoke. "Yes, M'lord, what are you treating us with tonight?" She took a step forward, moving her hands to her stomach. "To call me peckish would be the grandest understatement for millennia. I absolutely must know now, M'lord."

The soprano, whose name he once knew but could not, for the life of him, remember, was the younger sister of one of Alfred's friends. He saw them chatting multiple times after practice, though it was mostly her answering Alfred's numerous questions with a nod or a few curt words. Seeing her speak so much, even if it was for a part, was unnerving.

Francis stood from his throne, a large and warm smile spreading across his cheeks. "Well, what we shall be feasting on, that's a surprise, but you'll enjoy listening to my poems while we wait, I surmise."

The choir groaned, Arthur pointedly rolling his eyes and collapsing back onto the bench. Following the script, he turned to Michelle, where they started chatting about anything and everything, trying to sound judgmental as possible. They made sure that none of the words were clear to the audience, the room being filled with garbled sounds. Behind him, a tenor cackled loudly.

"No, no, no, this is not good enough." Francis braced his hands against the table, hanging his head. Elizabeta put her hand on his back, slowly moving it up and down, leaning in to whisper inaudible words into his ear.

"Silence!' The hall quieted as Francis yelled, his voice echoing off the walls of the church. A handful of members of the audience visibly jumped, Peter and Lukas being among them.

Arthur had to bite his tongue to keep him from grinning.

"Silence," he repeated, the word sounding more like a sob than a shout. Francis weaved his fingers through his hair, clutching his head as he shirked away from Elizabeta's hand reaching to comfort him. "You all shall pay more than some flimsy pittance."

He stood up straight, glaring murderously at those sitting on the dais alongside him. "I shall have you all executed for your traitorous actions, or worse- banishèd!" Several fearful gasps and shrieks rang through the choir at his words, and Arthur winced at the volume."

"Now, now, darling." Elizabeta stepped forward, putting her hand on Francis' shoulder. "Let us not make haste. Wisely and slow, they stumble that run fast. To kill them, my love, would prove to be a waste."

Another round of songs was coming in a few minutes, and Arthur struggled to remember which would be first. Behind him, Michelle mumbled her next lines, even though she wouldn't have to say them until after the intermission.

In front of him, Alfred lightly tapped his fingers on the table in a soft, familiar beat. It was cut short upon receiving a glare from Mr. Vargas. Arthur stared back and forth between the two during their quick exchange, only to be brought back to what was happening at the sound of Elizabeta's voice.

"For your acts most inconceivable, I have come up with an offer even more unbelievable. Until postmidnight, you shall starve, watching the peasants feast while your stomachs grow tight." Several moans surface, an alto throwing her arms up and huffing. "And should you protest," Elizabeta's voice deepened, her speech through gritted teeth. "Upon next morning, you shall be alight."

* * *

The rhyming had gotten old.

That was the first thought that inched through Alfred F. Jones' mind at the conclusion of the first line set. He watched as Elizabeta sat down, the staged whining and complaining from his friends- well, he supposed that they were his acquaintances now- finally fading.

A familiar noise from Mr. Vargas' harmonica sounded from the right, and once again, the choir started singing. Alfred let himself ease into autopilot, something he normally wouldn't do, but today, this week, this year…

It was different.

He kept his smile up, like he had been told to time and time again. Alfred did what he was supposed to, he went through the motions that he was expected to do. It was funny, really, the odd things that stay with you when everything else is long gone.

Once again, among all of the swaying and nodding, Alfred found himself returning his attention back to the table. He reinforced his smile, bringing himself close to crossing the thin line into improper vowel usage, but he ignored it. At this point, he didn't care anymore.

There was someone missing at the table. Kiku. In reality, his seat was taken, his mom inviting one of Matt's friends at the very last minute, not wanting to waste the money she paid for the ticket.

She set her glass down when they made eye contact, waving and smiling. Alfred made himself nod back, if only because she was expecting him to.

The current song ended. They started a new one. It was much faster and more complicated than the previous, with all the parts echoing each other and with very few spots to breathe. The best thing about it, though, was the fact that it was warning a man about his cheating wife. Alfred forced down the temptation to snort.

It was all too ironic. He quickly rotated himself to Arthur Kirkland, the bass he had chosen to help queue. Not that he needed it, Arthur could do just fine on his own. Arthur returned the gesture. The tenors were about to come in.

Alfred stuck around for a few seconds, staring at Arthur and Arthur alone. Let Mr. Vargas yell at him about it later, it didn't matter.

The anger in Arthur's eyes was, miraculously, gone, though the feeling that he was planning something stayed. Either he was an excellent actor or he was genuinely enjoying himself, even whilst in the middle of the chaotic week that was the Madrigal Dinner season.

Considering that Arthur, even when trying to act pleasant, still looked like he wanted to cut someone slowly and deliberately before burning them alive, Arthur figured that it was the second. That he was actually happy.

At least that made one of them.

He couldn't help but wonder what Arthur would do in his situation. What he would do to Kiku in his place. If Arthur would even let them get to the stage that they did. The stage where the spark had fizzled and the smoke had faded.

Arthur glared at him, stiff anger seeping into his expression, almost like an eclipse. He knew that if he could, Arthur would snap at him, ask him not-so-kindly to look somewhere else.

Arthur turned away, a familiar heat flaring up in his cheeks, the feeling like reuniting with an old friend for the first time in years.

He wished that Kiku were there, sitting at that eight-person round table in the audience. If only so he could look him in the eyes and tell him that Alfred F. Jones was absolutely and completely enamored with Arthur Kirkland.

* * *

Arthur breathed a sigh of relief as the lights of the lobby flicked on. The shoulders of the other members in the choir deflated, though no one spoke, the back lobby staying completely silent. It wasn't until the tiny jester came skipping in that the lights spilled in from the banquet hall, along with a surge of chatter.

Alfred let out a holler, throwing his fists up, and several others, including Michelle, joined in. They were done for the night, and would be at the same church in the same uniforms the next day to redo it all.

Mr. Vargas came waddling in, one of his shoes off and in his right hand. His hat was missing. He scanned through the group before breaking into a toothy grin that they hadn't seen in weeks. "Yeah, yeah. Go home, you little assholes. Remember- we're meeting early tomorrow to go over the show and you still gotta go to class tomorrow. Don't y'all be going home now and thinking that you're scot-free, you hear me?"

His words were followed by several fits of laughter and whoops, which Mr. Vargas waved away with a frown. Balancing on his left leg, he lifted his right and pulled off the remaining shoe, before walking down the hallway barefoot and disappearing from sight.

Taking that as his queue, Arthur turned towards the men's dressing room, rolling his wrist to form a quick wave when Michelle yelled her goodbyes to him. Arthur found the room to be empty when he gently pushed open the door, and he quickly navigated across the floor littered with backpacks to the loveseat he sat in before the show began.

His draw-string bag sat just where he left it, Arthur squatting down to rummage for his phone. He paused for a moment, staring down at his tights. The white fabric stretched, revealing small streaks of thinly-covered skin. Arthur paired his middle and index fingers together, slowly running them across the rivets.

He quickly snapped out of his reverie, resuming his search for his phone. It was easy enough to find, lying screen-up on top of a spare paperback copy of his current read.

Arthur let himself fall back, criss-crossing his legs as he waited to his phone to power up. His lock screen popped open, the only notifications shown being a couple emails from shops he used to frequent thousands of miles away. He was in the process of swiping them off the screen when his phone vibrated, another white box floating onto the screen.

It was from his father, asking him where he was. He couldn't help but snort. This wasn't new, but the almost concerned tone was. And he didn't expect it to last.

"Arthur."

He looked up, finding Francis standing in the doorway. The crown was gone, the only mark it left being a small circle of messy and disheveled hair. Francis didn't seem to notice, or if he did, he didn't care.

"What. What do you need." Arthur pushed himself back up into a squat. He looked back down at what he was doing, telling his parents to stay in the banquet hall, and that he would find them eventually. Arthur had just hit send when Francis spoke again.

"I know what you did."

Arthur paused what he was doing, dropping his phone into his bag. He took his time to rearrange his things, not caring at all that Francis would have to wait. "Oh, really? And, pray tell me- what exactly did I do? I've done a lot of things, you know. It's fairly difficult to remember which you're talking about."

Francis pushed himself off the doorway, his footsteps muffled against the plush carpet. Arthur stood as Francis drew closer, turning to face him. Francis stopped, and Arthur was close enough that he could see the details of his face.

He clenched his fingers into a fist, letting the urge to punch him in his pretty mouth build up. Even so, it couldn't be here, no matter how much he wanted to do it. There were too many potential witnesses in the area.

When Francis spoke, it was through gritted teeth, their eyes making constant contact in what almost seemed like a childish game. "If you think that you can breeze in here and start ripping things apart, then you are sorely mistaken."

Arthur snorted. "I think-"

Francis swiftly cut him off, Arthur scowling. "I think you should shut your mouth and listen for once. You've done enough talking." Arthur felt a familiar strain as he dug his fingernails into his hand, no doubt making small crescent moons into the meat of his palms. The ends of Francis' curled hair bobbed side to side as he spoke, gently knocking against his chin with each word. "Do you honestly think you can just come in here and ruin the lives of two people you don't even fucking know just for the shits and giggles? Is that seriously what you get off to at night?"

Arthur smiled, lacing all of the venom and hate he could give in it, taking a step forward. They were close enough now that he could faintly feel wisps of Francis' breath on his cheeks. "Well, Mr. Bonnefoy." He sneered the name. Nearly spat it out. "The real question is, 'Do I even care?'"

Francis' nostrils flared. "Mark my words, I will make your life a living hell. You won't even know what's coming for you, not until it's in your fucking face. Do you hear me?"

The room fell silent, and Arthur gave into his desires, if only a little bit.

He grabbed Francis by the collar, pulling him close, their noses almost touching. Arthur released his words slowly and deliberately, reveling in being back in his old routine, even if it was just by the tips of his toes. Reveling in seeing Francis pale. "You Americans and all of your goddamn melodramatic speeches. Is this whole fucking shithole of a country on a reality television show? How much of that was scri-"

A sharp intake of breath. Arthur let go of Francis, turning to find Alfred standing in the doorway, looking stiff. He watched them with wide, saucer-like eyes, going back and forth between them like rapid-fire.

"Did I, uh, interrupt something?"

"No. You didn't." Arthur deadpanned. Grabbing his bag, he pulled it over his shoulder, ignoring the loud rustling noise his things made.

He reached the door when Francis called out, "Karma's a bitch, Arthur. May she show you mercy."

Arthur stopped in the doorway, Alfred stepping back to give him room. Good. He gripped the wood of the frame, looking over his shoulder back at Francis. "Karma may be a bitch, but I practically live with her." Francis mumbled something under his breath, too quiet for Arthur to hear. He overlooked it.

He stalked down the hallway, which was mostly empty, save for a few stragglers. Arthur made a quick turn into the banquet hall, pulling his hat off before shaking his head. "Melodramatic, indeed."

As he entered the banquet hall, Arthur hoped that his personal group of spectators hadn't moved from their table. The crowd, while smaller, was still difficult to navigate through, Arthur being stopped several times to be congratulated. Each time he smiled, nodding before swiftly thanking whoever called him out, and went on his way. Quick, nice, and easy.

In reality, his blood was boiling. He wanted to beat someone out of every inch of their life. Until they begged for him to stop with blood leaking from their lips, at least.

He debated with himself what the school would do to him should Arthur decide that he wanted to recommit fully to his old lifestyle. It wouldn't be the first time he would be expelled, and it wouldn't be the second or third time, either. Perhaps they would suspend him for a few days, or maybe send him to one of those dreadfully disreputable alternative schools. That would certainly make his mother happy.

Then came the problem of what he would actually do to Francis as punishment. Arthur couldn't deal with him like he did with Kiku, that would be too obvious. No, he would need to-

"Arthur, you twat! Get your arse over here!" He turned to find Peter standing there, his mother whacking his side with her umbrella, her eyes wide and almost bugging out of her skull. Next to them, Vlad snickered.

He stopped in front of them, crossing his arms. "You didn't need to yell it, you know."

Peter pouted before sticking his tongue out, opening his mouth to speak when their mother cut him off.

"No. He didn't. And we'll have to have a conversation about that in the car, won't we?" She glared down at Peter, the latter's shoulders crumbling. Arthur couldn't help but grin at her displeased town, the fact that it wasn't directed at him for once being even better.

She turned her attention towards Arthur, a small, rocky smile spreading across her cheeks. Taking a step forward, she passed her umbrella to Arthur's father before putting her hands on his shoulders, squeezing tight. He had to hold back a wince at the feeling of sharp nails digging in.

It was a warning. Telling him to play along or face the consequences.

"You all were simply fantastic tonight." They made eye contact, and it felt as if she was daring him to look away. Daring him to not stare back. "Your grandmother would be so proud of you if she were here."

She was referring to, of course, of the same grandmother that signed him up for church choir back home and forced him to dress up for tea with her elderly friends, if you could call the vultures that. Arthur shuddered at the memories of all those weekends spent with the six of them sleeping in the small living room, his parents off gallivanting somewhere in the countryside.

"You know-" A sandy blonde curl- an essential part of the typical Kirkland woman's updo- hit Arthur's face as his mother turned towards Vlad and Lukas. She let her hold on his shoulders go, her heels clicking against the faux hardwood flooring of the church. Arthur had to hold down a snort as Lukas visibly shriveled under her gaze. "Arthur's grandmother, my mother, was the one who recognized his-"

She paused for a moment, cocking her head to the side. Shiny silver earrings shone in the light, swinging back and forth between her hair and neck. When she spoke, the word was curt and said with a venomous smile. "-talent." She brutally cut the last "t" off.

Vlad smiled, his eyes wide with what looked like no small amount of fear. He nodded, his lips pressed into fine lines. "Well, it's a good thing she did. Arthur's fantastic."

Something in his words made Arthur doubt that Vlad was talking about his singing.

His mother seemed pleased with that, nodding along with Vlad. She took in a breath, and Arthur prepared himself for the next wave of destruction.

Instead, perhaps saving them all, Arthur's father stepped in, gently taking her forearm and whispering inaudibly into her ear. Peter seemed especially interested when she frowned, pulling back to look at her husband before clicking her tongue and shaking her head.

She clasped her hands together, her chin high, looking like a queen holding court. And Arthur supposed, at least among their little group of riffraff, she was. "Well, Vladimir, Lukas. Are we taking you home this evening?" He figured that she already knew the answer to that, not wanting to miss a chance to show off her 'excellent' hosting abilities.

Vlad shook his head, looking almost relieved. "No, ma'am. We carpooled together."

"Great!" She took a step towards the exit, subtly motioning for them to follow. "Will you walk out to the car lot with us?" It was more of a command than a question.

"Sorry, but we parked in the lot on the other side." Lukas smiled apologetically as Vlad nodded in confirmation, probably one of the first words he had spoken that evening. Arthur knew that it was a lie, and that they were in fact parked a row or two away from his parents, but kept silent.

His mother had the nerve to look disappointed. She frowned, it almost looking like a pout. "What a shame." In one of her typical fashions, she perked up, her smile bitterly saccharine. "Well, Arthur, say your goodbyes. We'll be waiting."

Arthur stood there, staying silent until they walked from earshot. He turned towards his friends, letting his shoulders deflate, and rolled his eyes. "I'm sure you both had an interesting night."

Vlad laughed. "Yeah, but you have to put up with it every day, so we can't really complain too much." He looked over Arthur's shoulder, his grin slightly souring. "Good luck, man. Two more nights of this, and you're done."

Arthur let out a sigh. Around them, the freshman servers began to clean up, pouring glasses of iced tea and water into large plastic buckets. "I hope you guys enjoyed it."

Vlad opened his mouth to speak, only for Lukas to, surprisingly, go first. "Vlad hasn't been to one of these since sophomore year, when he dated Elizabeta-"

Vlad swiftly elbowed Lukas in the side, the latter coughing and taking a few steps back. Arthur laughed, the sound echoing through the hall. Upon seeing the glare from Vlad, he figured the safest thing to say would be: "You know what, I don't think I'm even going to ask."

His friend nodded. "Good."

Arthur shook his head, laughing. He turned, starting to walk towards the entrance the second line came through, where his mother was waiting for him, tapping her foot. "See you both tomorrow, then."

"Bye, Art! Don't party too hard tonight!"

Arthur grinned when he heard a pained goodbye from Lukas, waving but not bothering to turn towards them in response. He let his smile fall as he strolled towards his mother, his pants annoyingly swishing together.

He stopped in front of her, motioning for her to go first, not sure if he wanted to risk having her behind him. They walked in silence down the hall of the church, soft clinks of glass spilling out from the banquet hall.

They reached the back entrance, marked by glass double doors and a red exit sign. In the distance, Arthur could clearly see his father and Peter standing next to the trunk of the car.

His mother stopped. Arthur winced.

"What happened?" Her words were slow, thought out.

"What do you mean?" He knew exactly what she was talking about, but confirming whatever she was thinking at that moment would only serve in digging himself an even deeper grave.

"When you were coming in. You looked angry. So, I'm going to ask you this one more time." She whipped her head towards him, and Arthur almost felt tempted to warn her of the dangers of whiplash. "What. Did. You. Do."

He smiled. "Nothing. Nothing at all."

She rolled her eyes. "Bullshit."

She turned back around and they continued their walk, his mother angrily pushing open the doors. She stalked out of the church, her heels clicking as she walked. Arthur saw his father discreetly warning Peter beyond her shoulders.

Before she went down the steps, she stopped once again. She turned, the skirts of her red dress swishing around her legs as she did so. When she spoke, her voice echoed into the night. "I hope you get what's coming to you, lad. I really do."

Arthur paused, watching her as she expertly navigated down the stairs. She hit the bottom, her balance never once failing her, yelling for Arthur's father to start the car.

Starting to stroll slowly after her, spoke quietly, just enough for no one but him to be able to hear his words. "Same to you, mum. Same to you."

* * *

You guys have no idea how much I enjoy writing Arthur's mother. She's so fun to work with and I always look forward to chapters with her in them.

Now. First person to copy and paste the two Romeo and Juliet references in this chapter word-for-word into the comments with receive a one-shot from me with a prompt of their choice and can ask me anything they want about CL, including spoilers and the like. There is no limit to what and how much you can ask. If you don't have anything to ask, then we'll do another one-shot :)

Regarding the final paragraph in the Alfred POV, all will be revealed later in the final half of the story. Or if you quiet following CL altogether and wait until Mega-Watt comes out. I can say now that yes, Alfred does have a little crush on Arthur (I hinted it in Chapt. 13), but at the moment, it's not reciprocated at all. It will be though, considering that I have it in the Fanfiction romance genre.

Speaking of the Alfred POV, please please please tell me your thoughts! How did it sound compared to Arthur's? What'd you think of my poor injured Alfred? Do tell, I love hearing from you guys!

I have to say that Chapter 20 will come with another survey, since I know how much you guys loved that first one. I won't really say what's on it, but I can say that there will be a little vote on there between whether or not you guys want an Alfred, Lukas, or a newly thought-up Peter companion fic. I've already talked about the others, but the Peter one would mostly be about the Kirklands in England and would go a lot more into their dynamic. The other brothers would definitely be in that.

But anyways, I hope you all detected the shit ton of foreshadowing in here! If you didn't, that's fine, you'll figure most of it out next chapter. Thank you for reading Cross Life Chapter Fifteen: Feast! Have an excellent morning, day, and evening and I hope to see you next time for Cross Life Chapter Sixteen: The Strangling of the Snake!

::))


	16. The Strangling of the Snake

Arthur knew that something was wrong the moment he stepped into the courtyard.

Even while well into the month of December, the freezing temperatures were little compared to the silent chill that permeated their table. Arthur sat down at his self-assigned bench, dropping his backpack onto a small pile of dead leaves. He winced as the cold bit into the back of his thighs.

Vlad stared at him, a foul look in his eyes, as if the sight of Arthur made him sick to his stomach.

Arthur glanced back and forth between him and Lukas, the latter with a worried look on his face. Similar to the one he had when they first met. "Is there something wrong?" Lukas slightly flinched at his words.

Vlad shook his head, a shaky smile gracing his lips. "No. Nothing." He tapped his fingers against the edge of the table before slipping each into one of the holes, gripping tight. A telltale sign of nerves. Vlad let out a shaky breath, hiding it with a growing grin. "What'd you all think of that calc. practice test?"

Mid-terms were approaching, flyers littering the school's walls, testing schedules— in blocks, not the seven-period plan he'd grown used to— marked in black ink. Mr. Wang had prepared practice tests for them to take in preparation, which were supposedly harder than the actual one. Arthur felt as if he'd done well, but, nevertheless, failure was imminent.

Lukas glanced up from his cell phone just as Vlad's buzzed. His brown gently knitted together. "Did we have the same one?" Arthur remembered then that Lukas had a different teacher, one who had a tendency to "borrow" tests from other teachers.

It was amusing, to say the least, to listen to his math teacher rant to no end about it, especially on those days when he spent the majority of the period doing so. Especially when he began to tell personal stories along with it.

Vlad snorted, an almost bitter-looking grin on his face. "But of course!" He cocked his head to the side, his tone theatrical. "Do you think that that woman would actually make her own stuff? No! I had her for pre-cal last year and she told us that she made copies of other teacher's tests!"

Lukas shrugged, leaning back. He reached into his backpack, a soft zipping sound surfacing from under the table. Pulling a stainless steel water bottle from his backpack, Lukas flipped back the cap, tipping his head as he brought it to his lips. Arthur watched as he drank from the bottle, feeling Vlad's eyes on him. The latter quirked an eyebrow. Lukas let out a soft sigh when he was finished, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Well, maybe she finally made an effort this time."

Arthur snorted. "Yeah, and pigs have recently learned to fly." Arthur rolled his eyes as his friends fell silent, Vlad's stare turning angered. Lukas frowned, setting the water bottle next to him on the bench. As if to keep it away from Arthur, as if he might eventually do something with it.

Arthur softly swore to himself, shaking his head. "That's a, uh, phrase. It means-"

"We know what it means, Arthur." Vlad sent a smile in his direction, but it held none of the warmth that Arthur had grown to expect from him. He frowned. It reminded him of his mother. "In fact, you're not the only one who knows things, did you know that? What a surprise." His tone was sarcastic, angry. Arthur could only think that it seemed unnatural.

Lukas shot Vlad a look of surprise. They shared a curt nod, something that sent Arthur's mind scrambling for any possible answer out there. There was a plan in place, one that he wasn't in on.

He scanned through his memory for any moment, any motive for Lukas and Vlad to turn this cold, this fast. Something that could've worked this quickly. No recent unconsidered mistreatments, no actively getting on someone's bad side. The only person that he knew that could possibly have something against him would be-

Oh.

Oh.

Arthur crossed his arms, letting his shoulders slightly deflate as he leaned back. A feeling of nerves shot down his spine, spreading through his back like veins. Whether it was from the present possibility of falling or the chance that everything was unraveling beneath him, Arthur ignored it.

"What did he tell you?" It must've been Francis. It had to be. Only he had both the incentive— however questionable— and resources to be able to try and nudge Arthur off his pedestal.

The only unfortunate part of this was how quickly Francis managed to bring it tumbling. Arthur could've dealt with him, he could've, if given more time. Such careful planning over the course of months, only to be toppled in a matter of four days. He clenched his fists at the thought of it before forcing himself to let go.

Vlad watched as Arthur set his hands flat against the table. The three fell silent for little more than half a second before Vlad gave in. "Who? Who do you think told us?" He was testing him, then

Arthur shrugged. He would have to play ignorant today. "No one in particular. I was just assuming you were told something about me."

Vlad and Lukas glanced at each other. Lukas nodded. "Arthur." Lukas dipped his head, tracing his index finger around the holes in the table, occasionally sticking a finger in one. "Did you- uh, did you have a hand in the breakup between Alfred and Kiku?"

And there it was. Lukas spat out his words as if he were desperate to get them out of his mouth. He looked back up at Arthur, his eyes wide and his teeth biting his bottom lip. As if Arthur were a ticking time bomb.

Arthur pretended to look shocked. He widened his eyes, raising his shoulders and pressing his lips into a fine line. Opening his mouth, he quickly snapped it shut. When he finally allowed himself to speak, he made sure his words were slow, preparing to lilt the words at the end of each sentence.

"I don't know what-"

"Cut the bullshit Arthur and maybe stop lying to us for once."

He frowned. "I never lied to you." It held a small bit of truth. Arthur made sure that he was always honest. At least, when it came to topics that had no import.

Vlad shook his head, tsking. He stood from his seat, reaching his hand towards his back pocket.

Arthur watched as Vlad collapsed back onto the bench, this time with his phone in-hand. He tapped it open, swiping left and right multiple times before stopping.

"'Lukas, are you and Mathias ok?', 'Ok, just making sure. Seemed a little tense today', 'There's no need to be shy, you can tell me'." Vlad continued to read off several more of the text messages he had sent to Lukas weeks ago, the second half all what Arthur later showed to Heracles.

When he finished, Vlad clicked his phone shut, dropping it haphazardly on the table. "Do any of these sound familiar to you, Art?" The nickname came out in a spat.

Arthur nodded. He clasped his hands, weaving his fingers together, resting them on his lap and squeezing tight. It was something his mother taught him to improve manners, but it had stuck as a way to vent anger. Perfect on this occasion. "Of course. I had that exact conversation with Lukas a few weeks ago."

Vlad opened his mouth to speak, only for Lukas to cut him off. "Arthur, we got these from Heracles."

It was impossible. Arthur showed him screenshots, and even then, he never sent them. Never made the risk of Heracles having his phone number on hand.

He shook his head, scooting forward in his seat, knitting his eyebrows together. Cocking his head to the side, Arthur pursed his lips. "I don't understand how he could've gotten those. I certainly didn't share them with-"

"Arthur, please, just stop making stuff up for once and tell us what's going on. Heracles told us that you showed these to him and said that they were from Kiku." Vlad crossed his arms, frowning. His anger looked genuine, a glint in his eyes that Arthur hadn't seen before. At least not from him. "I'm sure that this is all just some big misunderstanding. Please tell me that it is."

He had enough experience with snakes to know that Vlad's expression revealed anything but a want to empathize.

Arthur mirrored Vlad, crossing his arms in a similar way and leaning back. A single thought flickered through his mind that, maybe, he would be safe and could take the time to tell them. It was gone before he could dig any further into it. He made sure that it was. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Vlad huffed, pushing himself up from his seat. He paced around in a small circle before turning back, bracing his hands against the metal, letting his hair hang down past his eyes. When he spoke, it was in a slight mumble, but still relatively clear. "Fine, then let's assume that you are actually telling the truth." He snapped his head up, glaring directly at Arthur. As they made eye contact, Arthur made a tight smile. "Where did you find that photo? You know, the one of them kissing-" there was no small amount of disgust in his words- "-in the hallway. How did you find them?"

Arthur let his shoulders slightly lower. He stared at his fingernails, dragging his thumb over the nail of his middle finger. "I was walking down the hall after I left you guys, and then I saw them."

"But why did you take the picture." Vlad's head bobbed as he spoke.

Arthur shrugged. He tsked, letting his smile fall and shaking his head. "Why? Kiku has— had— a boyfriend, for Christ's sake. Alfred deserved to know." Arthur hunched forward. "Hell, wouldn't you want to know, as well?"

Vlad nodded, seeming satisfied with his answer. Arthur shifted his eyes over to Lukas, shoving down the urge to groan when he saw him shake his head.

Opening his mouth, Lukas shut it with a soft pop. He took in a breath, quickly letting it back out, his eyebrows knitting together. "But wait." He glanced down, his fingers flexing into half-fists. "You saw them doing that when you left us a couple weeks ago. The day we had that one sleepover, right?"

He shifted in his seat. They had had multiple sleepovers since then. "That is correct."

"Then why, why were you in that hallway? Madrigal practices are always in the choir room, which is in the east building That particular hallway is on the second floor of the north. Completely different parts of the school."

Vlad moved his head back and forth between Arthur and Lukas. He stared at Arthur as he spoke, brow lowering, even though his words— hushed and cool— were directed towards Lukas. "How did you know what hallway it was?"

Lukas frowned. "You could see one of the computer labs to the right. The one on that corner."

Vlad made a sound of understanding, nodding in tune. His smile tightened, his stare— no, it would be better to call it a glare now— red hot. Arthur scrambled through his mind for an excuse. "Got anything to say about that, Arthur?" His words were honeyed.

Arthur realized then that he wasn't the only one who could be dangerous. He grinned. "Had to stop by my locker. It's around the corner from that hallway, you know."

Vlad cursed.

Arthur gripped his hands against the edge of the table. He desperately needed to steer away the conversation, take their minds away from any doubt, as fast as possible. At least, until he could figure out a way to deal with Francis, and, at the same time, clear himself of suspicion and prove himself to be innocent.

Knowing them, he probably wouldn't be off the hook for several months, and that was fine, he supposed, but it was the now that mattered. "I must ask—" he pressed his stomach into the table. It was Vlad's turn to bring lunch today. Either he'd forgotten it, or it was intentional. "Why are we talking about this? Does it matter to us?"

Arthur snorted. "It didn't really seem much like a relationship, you know."

Vlad slammed his hand on the table, loud enough to bring the attention of several others in the pit. Lukas lightly jumped in his seat, blinking rapidly, and Arthur had to hold down a snicker. Vlad caught it. "Do you think that this is a fucking game?" His voice escalated into a yell, smoldering anger in his eyes. "Do you think that you have the right to fuck with people just because they said something that you decided that you didn't like?" The world doesn't work like that, Arthur."

Rolling his eyes, Arthur rose from his seat. "And what the hell do you know about any of this? Quit acting like you're the victim and that all of this is about you."

"Look, Arthur." Lukas' voice was smooth as he spoke, his hands held up with his palms open and flat. He stood with his shoulders back, foot forward. As if he were preparing to hold someone back. "Vlad. I'm sure we can figure this out."

Vlad slowly turned his towards Lukas. He sneered. "How can I calm down when this asshole-"

"Hey, what's going on?" Mathias stopped next to Lukas, moving his arm down to the small of his back. His brow lowered in concerned, he and Lukas sharing a knowing look.

Lukas opened his mouth to speak, but Arthur swiftly cut him off. "It's not of your concern." His words sounded sharper than he intended.

"Of course, it's his fucking concern. He was the one who had to-" Vlad paused, the rest of his sentence dying at the tip of his tongue. His eyes narrowed before suddenly widening with realization, lips pursing and shoulders stiffening. "Arthur."

His words were deathly quiet, the cold rage something Arthur immediately recognized. One of his father's signatures. A calm before a hurricane.

"Yes?" Arthur rolled his shoulders back, holding his chin up high and looking down. He was only an inch or two taller than Vlad, but he could make it work. He would make it work.

Vlad scowled. "Why were you so interested in getting Lukas and Mathias together."

Arthur frowned, his mind beginning to scream. He inwardly cursed at the sudden appearance of Mathias, cursed at his concern. He fucked it up, all of it.

Huffing Arthur lowered his brown. The soft but firm feeling of a forming headache lit at his temples, spreading around his head. He felt the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose.

"Well, you were talking about him-" he gestured to Mathias with a haphazard wave of his hand "-six hours on the daily. I was trying to be a friend— you know, someone who helps you out— and-"

"Was it really out of friendship, Arthur? Or was it because Mathias had an in that you desperately needed to get a hold of?"

Mathias glanced back and forth between the three of him. The confusion was plain and in the open, in that puppy-dog way of his, frowning with a slight pout and taking in small, shallow breaths. "Why-"

Lukas slowly shook his head, giving him a look that told him that he would fill in the details later. Mathias' frown grew deeper, but Arthur ignored it.

They were drawing towards a familiar rift, Arthur realized. It was something that he'd experienced multiple time over the past few years. One that very few friendships ever came back from. Arthur sneered, folding his arms.

Let them cross it.

He leaned back, adjusting his legs to keep steady. "Well, let's say that I did do it. Then what? Are you going to tell Alfred? Their relationship is already ruined. There's no coming back from that. You saw the picture, didn't you? Kiku seemed way too into it for it to be anything but real."

Something inside of him, something small yet significant enough to matter, bristled as he lied through his teeth. Screamed for him to stop. Arthur shoved the feeling down, deeper and deeper. It lingered.

Vlad shrugged. "You have your reputation, don't you? That could be easily ruined. Labeling you as a liar would do. Or perhaps something else. You'll find, Arthur, that word gets around rather quickly here." His voice was calm and collected. As if he'd gone over the situation multiple times in the mirror.

Knowing Vlad, that was probably exactly what happened.

Arthur grinned, making it look as wicked as he felt. When he spoke, he added dull drawl, occasionally tugging at his syllables and shortening others. "Do you really think that I care about my reputation, Vlad?"

"You do with your bitch of a mother."

Lukas, who had been silently whispering with Mathias, whipped his head over in Vlad's direction, eyes growing as wide as saucers. The latter broke into a sly smirk, as if he'd planned the line, proud that he found a spot to say it.

He frowned, his shoulders tensing and his spine stiffening. Arthur let his arms drop to his sides, his hands hanging limply for a fraction of a second. He dug his fingernails into the palms of his hands, so hard that they stung, sneering with every speck of malice he could manage.

Arthur took a step forward, one foot slowly in front of the other. He barely held it back. It surged up, like an old friend reappearing after decades of absence. He oh-so-desperately wanted to embrace it.

Vlad's eyes shifted down to Arthur's closed fist, slightly widening at the sight of it. Blood drained from his face, as if he realized what had happened. Vlad almost looked afraid.

Good.

Arthur took another step forward. Their chests slightly connecting, their noses almost touching. Vlad tried to move away, but Arthur gripped his shoulder, digging in his fingers to keep him still. Vlad winced.

The courtyard fell silent. From the corner of his eye, Arthur could see Mathias and Lukas staring as he leaned in, his words as quiet as sweet nothings.

"If you think for one fucking second that you'll ever— ever— be able to say that without the repercussions coming to bite you in the ass, then you're sorely mistaken. Say anything like that again and I'll bash your skull in on the concrete."

Vlad was still as he pulled away. Arthur kept himself stiff and tense, his shoulders beginning to ache, even as he took a step back. He ignored the look of shock on Lukas and Mathias' faces. Ignored the wide-eyed stares of the rest of those in the pit.

Turning around, Arthur stalked back to his seat, grabbing his backpack by the strap and slinging it over his shoulder. The fabric groaned behind him.

He felt several pairs of eyes on his back as he stalked towards the cafeteria, the pit erupting into a frenzy of whispers. Arthur would take the long way to the choir room, he quickly decided.

He yanked open the doors, stepping in to embrace the warmth melting the ice in his bones. Arthur scanned the tables of chatting students, stopping at a group of cackling freshmen in the back corner before moving on.

It wasn't until he heard the double doors click shut that Arthur let out the breath he had been holding. He pushed his fingers through his hair, reveling in the light tug at his scalp.

Arthur navigated through the halls, beginning to ascend the stairs, his footsteps echoing through the staircase. Even with no one there with him, he kept his head down, trying his best to ignore the feeling of his stomach twisting and turning in on itself.

* * *

The rain fell in buckets. It dropped in sheets, as if someone had turned on a tap. Onto him, the concrete sidewalk, the nearby houses, the squishy grass, everywhere.

He stepped into a puddle, water splashing up and soaking the hem of his pants. Arthur ignored it.

As he walked— one step forward, and then another and another, he chanted to himself— he scanned the looming houses around him, all suffering same-face syndrome, all staring down at him with contempt. Disgust. Begging for him to do it.

Arthur shook his head. Nothing good has ever come out of such thoughts, especially for him.

But he supposed that he could get away with it, though. If he really wanted to. Arthur could do anything to anyone, if he was angry and determined enough to do it. And, at this point, nothing could really touch him.

So he stomped down the sidewalk, a sneer curling his lips and his blood boiling in his veins. A million thoughts swam through his mind, yet, at the same time, it was empty. The buzzing of a thousand bees. Cold silence.

Empty. The word chanted over and over again in his mind, the cool, chilly voice not his own. Empty, empty, empty, empty.

Empty like his jewelry box, which had held his most favorite piercings. Empty like his closet. The walls of his room. His phone after his mother reset it. Conversation logs with old friends. Everything. Empty.

A thousand bees buzzing. Empty. And then one. A single, clear thought. Lingering.

Empty, empty, empty.

He stopped. The rain pounded against his head, drilling into his skull, but he ignored it. Arthur lifted his hands up, flipping them back and forth, staring down at his palms as the raindrops slid away. He frowned.

Slowly, ever so slowly, he lifted his hand. Scanning. Looking for at least something that reminded him of the home that once was. Something that wasn't the dreaded rain.

Arthur took a step forward, and then another and another. With each step, he went faster and faster, eventually breaking into a full sprint.

Water splashed onto the hem of his pants, soaking his socks, chilling his foot to its very bones. He shook his head, ignoring the sheets barreling towards him, shucking off his backpack to carry it in his hand. The joints of his fingers silently groaned as they were cut into by the strap.

Arthur kept running, in spite of the slick concrete and burn in his lungs. In spite of the fact that he didn't know where he was going, only that he didn't want to return to his house. No, definitely not. Not where his mother would be, the source of all of his problems.

He heard the humming of the engine before the voice.

"Arthur!" Alfred yelled out from his passenger window, his head whipped back and forth between him and the road ahead.

Arthur didn't bother to acknowledge him.

"Come on, Art! Don't do this to me now!"

Art. The exact same thing Vlad had called him just hours before. He didn't respond, only slowing down to a brisk stalk as his lungs began to beg. He didn't turn to Alfred. He wouldn't.

Out of his peripheral, he saw Alfred huff, a few strands of his hair falling out of place as he shook his head. Arthur smiled as Alfred drove away, the engine slightly revving as the car passed. Good. He didn't need a distraction.

He continued with an even pace, crossing yard after yard in a span of a handful of steps. He only let his grin fall when he noticed Alfred stopping ahead.

Alfred pushed himself out of his car, jogging towards the sidewalk. The sound of his door shutting echoed against the rain. Arthur kept steady.

Arthur looked straight into Alfred's eyes, quietly celebrating his small victory when the latter averted his own. There had to be fifteen feet between them, at the very most.

Ten.

Five.

Alfred bit his lip, the tensity in his shoulders and the tightness of his jaw clear. Arthur looked him up and down, barreling towards him.

When they were barely an arm's length apart, Alfred took a final step forward, setting his hands on Arthur's shoulders, squeezing tight. For a split second, Arthur could only think about how warm they were, even with the freezing rain.

He shook away the thought. He stepped to the side, shrugging out of Alfred's hold, only for Alfred to do the same, blocking his path. They moved back and forth until Arthur grabbed Alfred, shoving him to the side, continuing his walk as Alfred stumbled off the sidewalk.

He barely got a few feet ahead when Alfred caught up, a streak of mud staining the triple white stripes on his jacket. Alfred slipped on the concrete, straightening himself with a shaky smile as he let go of his grip on Arthur's forearm.

A dance. That's what it was. One that he couldn't— wouldn't— submit to. He needed to get out, fast. And somehow manage to ditch Alfred in the process.

That would be the hard part.

Arthur winced, but made sure that it was gone before Alfred could notice. The latter's shoulders slightly heaved from laughter, a look of relief washing over his face. Because of what, exactly, Arthur didn't bother to ask.

He didn't allow for his deadpan expression to falter, didn't let the smile tug at the corners of his lips. He stared at Alfred, still as possible, willing a silent command into his features and hoping that Alfred would take the hint.

He did not.

"Arthur, come on." Alfred took another step forward, and Arthur stepped back. The dance continued. Multiple raindrops slid from Alfred's hair— which was now more of a dark brown than a golden caramel— onto his forehead and down the side of his nose.

Alfred's grin slowly grew into a cheeky smirk. As if he held the answers of the world at his fingertips. "Let's get out of this rain."

Arthur didn't say a word in reply.

The smirk downsized into a light grin, only to be back up in half a second. The color in his cheeks bloomed into a rosy red.

"What?" Alfred lifted his arms, palms facing toward the sky. He looked as if he had come straight from a soap opera, or perhaps a Hallmark movie, with the rain gliding down his cheeks, an amused gleam in his eye. "You're not gonna tell me to fuck off, or maybe shove me in the mud again?"

He lightly tapped the edge of Arthur's shoulder. His voice dropped into a hushed whisper, barely audible against the pattering of rain. "Where's the Arthur I've always known?"

Arthur huffed, shaking his head. He stepped off the sidewalk, into the squishy grass. He pushed Alfred to the side.

"Arthur, wait."

Maybe it was the way he said it. The tone of desperation in his voice. Or maybe there was a small part of him that told him to, the same part that roared for him to tell the truth.

Arthur stopped, his back towards Alfred. When the latter spoke again, it was clear that his smile had fallen. "At least let me get you out of all of this."

He sighed. Go with him, and get out of the rain. But, at the same time, be subjected to whatever… Alfred had in store. Or, on the other hand, walk away, continue to get soaked, and go home. And get sick.

His mother was off from work all of next week.

Arthur sighed, shaking his head, so hard that the water flew off. It was back on in a split second. He huffed.

"Fine."

"Great!" Alfred's voice seemed higher than it had been, Arthur turning to find his smile brighter than it had been in the past few weeks. "You wanna?" His voice trailed off, Alfred jerking his head in the direction of his car.

Arthur frowned, He strolled over to it, shrugging his backpack back over his shoulder. Alfred was hot on his heels, the grass tugging his loafers into pockets of muddy water. They would have to be cleaned when he returned to his house, if he got the chance to do so that evening. Or ever.

He stopped in front of the passenger door, slipping his fingers behind the handle and waiting. Alfred looped around from the back, lightly tapping his hand against the side of the car, and then against the windows. "It's unlocked. You're good."

Arthur nodded, pulling the handle. The metal- or whatever it was- was slick under his fingers, a small crack pinching the middle crease of his index finger as he let go.

He quietly hissed, rubbing his thumb over the spot in a circular motion.

It had turned numb by the time he slid into the passenger seat, letting his head hit the headrest as he set his backpack in between his legs on the floorboards. Arthur glanced up, ignoring the uncomfortable chill settled in his legs. For a split moment, gone as quick as it came, a wave of confusion overcame him at the absence of a steering wheel.

"If you want, you can toss your backpack into the backseat, mine's already back there. Won't bother me." Alfred didn't look at Arthur as he sat in the driver's seat, popping the key into its socket and twisting. He turned to Arthur, an easy-going grin gracing his lips as his eyes shifted down. "Or you can keep it with you, that's fine."

Arthur debated on the merits of telling him that he didn't recall asking for permission, only to decide against it. If only because Alfred had control of the car's lock panel.

They fell into an unsettling silence as Alfred pulled out of the slight dip in the street, maneuvering as if he's done so thousands of times. Arthur watched intently as Alfred continued down the street, noting the way his knuckles turned white as he gripped the steering wheel, how he bit the very tip of his tongue.

Alfred glanced to the side, as if an attempt to meet his stare, but Arthur turned away to the window.

Alfred sighed through his nose, a slight whistle sounding. "So, uh, where, exactly, do you live?"

Arthur ignored him, instead focusing on the collision of raindrops against the window. Two sat side by side, nearly touching, only for a faster and larger one to slash through them both, taking them down with it. He frowned.

Next to him, Alfred muttered under his breath. The majority of it was too quiet for Arthur to make out, save for a string of curses. Arthur couldn't help but smirk, no matter how much he tried to resist.

Alfred scrapped his fingernail against the faux-leather of the steering wheel. A sharp breath, a slower release. "So, you nervous for that choir concert on the eighteenth?" Arthur didn't wait for Arthur's response. "Personally, there's this one note that I can't get down low enough for, and Vargas has been getting on my ass about it for two weeks now."

His scraping had turned into a steady drumming. It pounded in tune with Arthur's headache. "And, I mean, it's like, come on, man! You were the one who put me in as a first tenor in the first place. Again. You know, I've been a first tenor forever. Hell, my middle school teacher told me that she was tempted to put me in the soprano part, for Christ's sake!"

Arthur held down a chuckle at Alfred's tone of displeasure. His mind flicked back to when he had first joined choir, at his mother's insistence. His church's director gave him a note, and while he managed to hit it, the ones above it were impossible. It wasn't until his voice cracked that he was told to stop.

His brothers had laughed themselves hoarse when his mother recounted the story. Asked him multiple times to recreate it. Did their own impressions. And would laugh again when he told them to fuck off.

"And that note is more like something that your part would do, y'know? I'm sure that that's smack dab in the middle of your range, but for me? No fricken way. He should have the basses do it."

Arthur stayed silent.

Alfred laughed, the breath following shaky and fake. He glanced over to see Alfred straighten his back, his shoulders tense, smile flattening into a wince.

"Y'know, you did a really good job at the dinner last week." Alfred clicked his tongue several times before continuing. "I mean, a lot of people were pissed when Vargas let you in without an audition. In the middle of the practice season, nonetheless."

Arthur turned from the window, locking in on Alfred, raising his eyebrow. Alfred met his eyes, an amused grin stretching his lips. Arthur asked a silent question, dipping his chin and frowning.

Somehow— surprisingly, miraculously— Alfred understood.

"Oh, yeah, man. Everyone was pissed, especially Francis. Especially Francis." Arthur groaned at the name. From his peripheral, he saw Alfred lift his hands from the steering wheel in mock surrender, only keeping the heels connected. "I mean, I was cool with it. And you're pretty good, so it's not a problem. To me, at least. But a lot of people are mad cause Vargas made us audition back in May, but you got in without anything like that. Or so I've heard."

Alfred was rambling. Speaking a mile a minute, as if Arthur was going to stop him at any moment. His lips moved faster and faster with each phrase.

Arthur rolled his shoulders back, setting his ankle at his knee. A tight fit, with his other knee pressing against the door, the tip of his shoe at the side of the command console, but it would work. "Vargas asked me to join."

Alfred whipped his head over to Arthur, his mouth slightly gaped and eyebrows raised. "Seriously?"

Arthur deadpanned. When he spoke, he made sure that his words were in as much of a mocking tone as he could manage. "Seriously."

Alfred winced, running his hands up and down the steering wheel. Silence blanketed them once again, save for the wisps of noise from under Alfred's hands.

Something about the swishing— back and forth, back and forth, over and over again— sent spiders crawling down his back. Arthur rolled his shoulders again, wincing, trying to keep a small noise from leaving his mouth.

He failed, apparently, as Alfred chuckled, his lips pressed tightly together in a grin. Arthur stared at him, eyebrows raised.

Alfred glanced over, his laughter dying upon seeing Arthur. He bit his bottom lip, pausing the swishing and instead beginning to squeeze and unsqueeze the steering wheel. The look was, as much as he hated to admit it, charming.

"Hey, Arthur." Alfred's voice was low, careful. A man tiptoeing a ticking time-bomb. "Is this your street?" He nodded his head towards the corner.

Arthur leaned back in his seat, reaching his hand behind him to clench the edge of the headrest. The rain began to fall even harder than it had before the street before Alfred's windshield barely visible save for a few feet ahead.

"How would I know?"

Alfred sighed through his nose, shaking his head, defeated. He eased the steering wheel to the left, going in the opposite direction of Arthur's house. Good. He didn't feel like seeing his mother at that moment, didn't feel like listening to whatever ideas she'd come up with or whatever questions she'd decided to interrogate him with.

Arthur arched his bake against the seat, moving his hand from the headrest to the handle situated in the ceiling of the car. He kept his hand on it even as the turn was completed, running his thumb's fingernail back and forth along the hard plastic. A habit, perhaps, born from the time when his older brother, William, had taken their father's car out for a test ride.

He silently laughed at the memory, at the feeling of fear that had coursed through his veins when William took too sharp of a turn, almost barreling them over a bride. Alfred sent him an odd look, his eyebrows raised and lips pursed.

Before Arthur could answer, he turned into a driveway, a soft sigh escaping his lips as he put the car in park and twisted off the ignition. Arthur caught a glimpse of the house through the cracks of water, his mouth gaping, eyes widening at the sight.

He had seen it before, with its lemon-yellow siding and wrap-around porch, months and months ago. What seemed like a lifetime ago.

His grip on the handle tightened. Next to him, Alfred looked back and forth between him and the house, Arthur barely noticing the worried frown. "Arthur? Please don't tell me that it's that bad." A nervous, breathless laugh.

Arthur shook his head. "It's fine. Just didn't realize that you lived so close." There was a hint of accusation in his words, he realized, but he ignored it.

A small hum from Alfred, its tone something Arthur didn't want to delve into, the former's shoulders visibly relaxing. When he spoke, his voice was filled to the brim with a perky cheer, one that had been absent in the past week or so. "Oh, yeah. You know, a lot of people at school live around here. You know my friend Antonio? He lives down the street in the opposite direction."

"I know. I see him every day." His words came out as a snap.

Alfred fell quiet, the patter of rain against the roof of the car the only sound surrounding them. Arthur leaned to the side, resting his cheek against his fist, his other hand moving to tighten a grip around the handle of his backpack.

Alfred sucked in a breath, though Arthur didn't hear him exhale. He pulled his keys out from the ignition Arthur glancing over to see a surprisingly bare keyring. For some reason— one he couldn't, wouldn't think of now— he expected it to be full of keychains. There was only one on the entire ring, a golden-plated star with a NASA logo stamped in the center. The star spun with each jerk of Alfred's hand, a textured metal circle keeping it in its place.

Arthur had to hold in a snort. It was dorky, unbelievably so, in what seemed like such an Alfred way.

Turning towards Arthur, Alfred had a giddy and encouraging grin spreading across his face. When he spoke, his words were almost breathless, ending in an upwards lilt. "You ready?"

He nodded, sitting up in his seat, rolling his shoulders back as he unbuckled his seat belt. He could've sworn that Alfred's eyes shifted downward as he did so, but shook his head, willing the thought away. He nodded.

"Ok, on the count of three. One- two-" Arthur didn't let him get to three. He pushed the door open, sliding out before Alfred could continue, grabbing his backpack and dragging it along with him.

The heel of his loafer skidded as Arthur stepped onto the textured concrete. He scowled at it before continuing, tightly gripping the ledge of the roof. The car slightly shook as he slammed the door shut.

He booked it up the driveway, turning onto the sidewalk and taking the steps leading to the wrap-around porch two at a time. Arthur stopped about a foot from the door, stepping to the side and waiting for Alfred. He caught up to him in a matter of seconds, his backpack— a blue L. L. Bean, a brand that almost everyone seemed to have, including some others— bouncing behind him.

Alfred huffed when he jumped up onto the porch, his shoulders deflating, his smile slightly diluting with a wince.

"Ok, we good?" He continued before Arthur had a chance to reply. A tendency of his, Arthur realized. "So, here's the thing. Normally, she wouldn't like, but like, y'know, with all this—" he gestured towards the slick and muddy streets— "Mom wouldn't want us to get the hardwood ruined, so." Alfred shrugged, voice trailing off. "Gotta take our shoes off."

Arthur didn't bother to reply, instead scanning the porch. Only the very tip of the ledge was wet, that particular portion of fan-patterned concrete stained a dark gray compared to the light powdery color of the rest.

He paused before moving on, the cushions tied to the chairs pulling his attention away from the cold concrete. Blue and red umbrellas were splattered across otherwise ink black fabric, handfuls of blue raindrops tumbling off and alongside them.

Arthur clicked his tongue, slowly shaking his head. The hairs plastered to his forehead didn't move. A yellow house, white rocking chairs, blue and red chair cushions. Interesting.

Crouching down, Arthur balanced his elbows onto his knees, planting the soles of his feet flat against the ground as he tugged at the double knots in his shoelaces. They were rough underneath his fingertips.

How long would it remain like that? How long until the smooth fabric would give way to shiny nylon, until soft suede gave way to hardened leather? He let his fingers dig into his laces, squeezing tighter and tighter, his knuckles turning pale.

He didn't need to glance over to Alfred to tell that he had done the same. "So, Arthur." Alfred sounded slightly winded, as if he had just returned from a mile-long jog. "Do you do this—" He flippantly waved his hand in the space between them. "—in England?"

Arthur shrugged. "Most do." Including his mother. At their previous house, she had insisted that they take their shoes off after installing new carpet, to the point of refusing to unlock the door until they were filed in straight lines next to the door.

It had worked well for her, at least until William, Arthur's second eldest brother, had tracked mud into the house out of spite. Arthur grinned at the memory, unable to keep it down, the experience certainly something to remember.

Even if Arthur had cried during the tongue-lashing the five of them— never six, Peter was always excluded from such things— received later that afternoon.

Arthur let his shoes unceremoniously drop to the concrete, bending down to pick up the pair by the heel. He placed them next to the door's ledge, neatly side by side. He glanced over to Alfred, scowling at the sight of ratty sneakers thrown into a messy pile.

Alfred clapped his hands together, scrubbing them like sandpaper before tugging a lanyard out from his shirt which, now that Arthur thought about it, had been around his neck every day from the very start.

A small, military-green camouflage key dangled from the end of the lanyard. Alfred leaned towards the door, his face mere inches away. He spoke as he unlocked the deadbolt, glancing at Arthur once a few words passed, his backpack sliding down the side of his back.

"I know I can put the house key with my car keys. I know that that makes sense." He jimmied the lock before continuing, a soft click echoing against the porch walls. "But I'll be damned, I've had this lanyard around my neck since the seventh grade. It's too good to get rid of now."

"But it would be easier to keep it on your key ring." Arthur kept his tone deadpan, matter-of-fact.

Alfred tipped his head back and laughed, the bubbly sound overpowering the dead and muted downpour of rain. It was loud, extremely loud, the telltale throbbing of a developing headache pounding at Arthur's temples.

"Where's the fun in that?"

Arthur scoffed. "It's not a matter of it being fun, it's a matter of—"

He didn't get a chance to finish, his words cut off by the shake of Alfred's head and the push of the door. A gust of warm air flew from the house, pushing against the cold December winds.

Alfred shook his head, an almost knowing grin gracing his lips. "Well, come on in." Alfred huffed, holding the door open as Arthur stepped in.

The house was warm, a godsend compared to the eternal freeze that permeated his mother's domain. She liked to keep the heat off, refusing to turn it on even in the dead of winter.

A defiant Dylan had once punched the thermostat up by a handful of degrees, granting them three hours of sweet, jacket and blanket-less warmth.

Even then, the house had had an unshakable chill to it.

Arthur felt none of that as he stepped into the foyer, a carpet mat softly crunching under his feet. He breathed it all in, eyes darting a mile a minute from the dark hardwood to the living room beyond.

"Damn, I guess Dad forgot to turn the heat down again." His tone was that of amused exasperation, as if it were a frequent occurrence.

Arthur resisted the urge to shake his head. There would've been hell to pay if his father had made the same mistake, not that he would. A collective-sort of hell.

He rolled his shoulders back, willing the thought away, letting a soft huff of air out through his nose. The house itself was pretty, he supposed, in a way that houses could be considered that way. A small, overhead light hung from a chain in the ceiling, shiny through frosted glass. Immediately to his left, a wall, painted in lively gray, covered in clusters of photos, their frames a mismatch of wood, hard plastic, and faceted metal.

Arthur flicked his attention around, going from photo to photo, feigning indifference. But hell, he was interested. Immensely so. If only to see the family of such an unpleasantly pleasant person.

He stopped at the largest of the bunch, situated right in the middle, an antique frame holding it down. It looked like something that belonged in his own living room, or perhaps his grandmother's, with its shiny, untarnished edges. Not anywhere near Alfred.

But he was unmistakably there, in the bottom left, his cheeks chubby and Hollywood smile crooked. The photo had to be four years old, at the very least.

The group of four shared the same smile, the same genuine gleam in their eyes. Nothing like Kirkland family photos— forced grins, backs and shoulders stiff, even stiffer suits.

Their outfits were slightly disheveled, the details so abysmal, Arthur barely noticed. As if they had rushed to get the photo done.

His mother would've had them at the parlor for hours, not letting a single hair or ruffle out on its own. Arthur held down a grimace at the memories of those dreadful picture days.

He shook away the thought, running his tongue across the seam of his bottom lip. Arthur blinked, his eyes opening and—

Oh.

He didn't realize he said it aloud until it left his lips. Arthur turned back to Alfred, the latter's expression falling, swelling with worry and dread.

"Sorry, didn't know that you were—"

"Yeah, is that a problem?" There was a sharp edge in his voice, something Arthur hadn't heard before. Another thing he had to add to the list of today's firsts.

"Not at all, just wasn't expecting it."

Alfred mumbled something, his words too quiet for Arthur to pick up. The former stared at the photo, his knitted brows telling too much about previous reactions.

Arthur had fucked up.

He kept silent, stepping to the side. Alfred's smile was back in an instant, a bit more tense, a bit angrier, but a smile nonetheless.

It made some part of Arthur deflate in relief, but he ignored it the best he could. Best to smother anything like it now.

Alfred led them further into the house, the short hallway opening up into a large living room, a curled staircase to the left. As they passed, Arthur noticed several knicks and scratches in its otherwise shining banister.

He stepped slowly and carefully as the hardwood morphed into carpet, grimacing at each creak. The heat began to seep into the threads of his sweater, gripping tight.

Stopping at the thermostat, Alfred ran his thumb over the buttons. He paused. "You can set your stuff over there, on the kitchen table, if you want." He bopped his head back and forth as he spoke, a strand of hair bouncing along with it.

Arthur sighed, strolling past Alfred and towards the kitchen, a ball dropping in his stomach. He ran his fingers along the edge of the granite counter-tops, stopping to rub his thumb over a splotch of faded green before moving on.

He cringed at it, but forced himself to continue. Food coloring, maybe.

"Hey, man, are you hot? Cause I'm sweltering." Alfred's voice was louder than usual, a tone of breathlessness with it. Arthur turned at the sound of rustling, lightly tapping his fingers against the kitchen island as he perched himself on a stool. He frowned, letting his face deadpan.

Alfred was wearing a t-shirt and a thin windbreaker.

He glanced down at his own clothing, pinching a small bit of fabric and pulling back. It made a muted snap as he let go, molding back to its original form.

The heat had grown to be almost suffocating, an unshakable itch settling on his shoulders. For a fraction of a second, not that he would ever admit it, Arthur longed for the impenetrable cold.

Hair clinging to his forehead, Arthur's socks wrapped an unpleasant dampness around his feet. He held back a glare, feeling his nose slightly crinkle.

A soft chuckle had him snapping his head back up. Alfred cooled his smile into a straight line as Arthur stared, at least until a corner of the former's mouth lifted upward.

He broke into a laugh, pushing his fingers through his hairline. Arthur continued staring, keeping down the urge to sneer as it tugged at the corners of his lips.

"Fuck, man." Alfred's laughter died down, as well as his smile, his teeth scraping against his bottom lip. Arthur could've sworn that it was worry that filled his eyes. "Say, you want me to throw your clothes in the dryer? You can borrow some of mi—"

"That won't be necessary, but thank you." He wouldn't— couldn't— keep the bite out of his tone.

Alfred frowned, dropping himself onto the stool across from Arthur. It creaked from under him, their knees almost touching. Close. Too close.

Alfred braced his elbows against the counter-top, his hair a light brown, its tips slightly curling as it hung down. "Do you have any homework?"

"No."

A lie. An English essay to finish editing and some leftover work from maths, but he would be damned if he told him that. Even if Alfred already knew about the latter.

"Ugh." Alfred scratched his head. The sound spent spiders crawling down Arthur's spine. "You play video games?"

"No."

Alfred muttered something under his breath. Arthur could only think that he seemed to do that often. The former swore, the word seeming foreign on his lips. He stretched his elbows back, his windbreaker crinkling with the movement of his arms, his t-shirt tightening around his chest. "What do you wanna do, then?"

Arthur glanced down, running his hands back and forth over his thighs before stopping. He tapped his fingers one at a time against his knees. Pinkies, rings, middles, indexes, thumbs. Reverse. A single thought ran through his head, one that he had been entertaining for these past few weeks. Even before what had happened. One that would make everything right again, but possibly ruin it in the process.

Arthur had nothing to lose. Nothing to gain.

He looked up at Alfred, allowing his lips to pull into a smirk. "I have an idea."

* * *

Hey, guys, I'm back! Sorry for the long wait.

First, just in case anyone noticed, I copy and pasted the first couple of paragraphs from Cross Life Chapter One into the start of the second scene, so kudos to you if you did! I fixed them up a bit to fit the scene and to make them decent again, so they're not word for word. But still!

Also, regarding the "I have an idea" part at the end, I promise that it won't turn into another "the plan". Arthur's idea will be done next chapter, and boy, I am pumped! I've already started writing Chapter Seventeen and I'm not participating in any events (I participated in two this summer, hence the long CL wait time), so this upcoming one should be out sooner. Hopefully.

One last thing and then I'll go, regarding that little tidbit with the photos and all, I headcanon Alfred to be mixed. I didn't really mean to make it that big of a deal, so I whole-heartedly apologize if you feel like I did. I'm super excited for Alfred's parents, though! This chapter was meant to provide sort of a contrast to Arthur's house, which will be further elaborated on later in the story, once Arthur starts going to Alfred's house more :) . I'm getting super excited to write the contrast in Easy Living (the final name for Alfred's POV fic, I suggest you listen to the song by Billie Holiday to set the tone), since I had such a fun time writing his scene from Chapt. 15. It's always interesting to see through the eyes of someone other than the main character.

I would like to thank my good friends Sue for being my new beta (even though she's an exclusive RusAme shipper, how valiant of her!) and Nickie for letting me bounce my ideas off them at risk of being spoiled. You guys are great! Thank you guys so much for reading Cross Life Chapter Sixteen: The Strangling of the Snake, I hope to see you guys soon for Cross Life Chapter Seventeen: The Comeback Kid. I hope you have an incredible morning, day, and evening!


	17. The Comeback Kid

"Holy shit, man. When you said that you saw Tony every day, I didn't know that you meant living next door to him."

Arthur crossed his arms, glancing out the window. Soon. Soon, and all this would be over.

"You never asked."

Antonio had not been a problem in recent months, not when Arthur hadn't given him a chance to be. Despite their close proximity, they never spoke, Arthur only getting glares and giving sneers in return.

His mother received the same treatment from their neighbors, to her ever-growing confusion. She often complained about it at the dinner table, about how cold Antonio's mother was to her, Peter watching with barely-contained amusement.

He had witnessed the exchange involving a certain cake from his window, apparently.

She would find out sooner or later, whether it was from Peter growing tired of Arthur's bribes or from some other method. At this point in time, Arthur wasn't sure he cared.

Alfred slowly pulled into the driveway, just far enough that Arthur could jump out and make a run for it. He peeked out the window, frowning upon seeing the muddy puddle the car emptied out onto.

"Inch forward."

Alfred obeyed.

He looked out the window again, nodding. Right outside the door, there was concrete.

"Now." Arthur turned to Alfred, lifting his eyebrow. He couldn't shake off the feeling that he was talking to him as if he were a child. "I'm going to go inside and get something. Wait for me."

"You gonna take your backpack in?"

"No. Then she'll know that I was here."

Alfred opened his mouth to speak, but before he could continue, Arthur was gone. He quietly shut the car door before making a break down the sidewalk. He slightly slid as he stepped onto the first step, blocking out the mild embarrassment spreading through his veins.

He tugged at the storm door's handle, suddenly grateful that his father had made him oil it a few weeks prior. Not making a single sound, Arthur reached for the doorknob, slightly turning it. Unlocked.

He let out a sigh of relief, thanking any powerful deity listening for his mother's forgetfulness.

Stepping into his foyer, Arthur began to long for the heat of that lemon-yellow house down the street. Suffocating after just a few moments, yes, but better than… this.

He shook his head. No use in thinking about a one-time thing, not right now. There was a job to do.

Peter was at football conditioning, Arthur only knowing that particular bit of information due to his younger brother's incessant chatter about it the evening before. The boy kicked shins more than he did the damn ball, but there were times where Arthur doubted it was on accident.

His father was at work, and would be for a couple more hours at the very least. His mother, who had recently taken a liking to working at home, would be the problem.

Arthur could only hope that she had locked herself in the study, like she normally did.

Slowly, oh-so-slowly, Arthur began his tread across the hardwood floor. There was no sudden switch to carpet, not like there was at Alfred's, forcing him to take the long way to avoid the floor's groans. Damn his father for wanting a basement.

He made his way to the living room, his eyes locking on the red leather purse sitting on the green armchair. Unguarded. Ripe for the taking.

Arthur reached for the zipper, tugging it across, the sound of each prong disconnecting a hammer striking against drywall. Finally, after what seemed like decades, the purse was open.

He peeked inside, familiar pens and tubes of red lipstick lined up in neat rows. He wasn't interested in them in the slightest, not as his mother's wallet pawed at his attention.

Reaching for it, Arthur wrapped his fingers around the edge, touching as little as possible, as if she would be able to see his fingerprints on it. He stopped.

Taking the whole thing wasn't an option. No, she would notice. Quickly. He needed to go smaller.

Arthur cracked the wallet open, scanning the long line of debit and credit cards. A few were old, from musky, crumbling banks that he would never step foot in again. As if she'd forgotten to shred them.

Those weren't the ones he needed. Not with the chance that their contents had been emptied. He continued his search, until- there. That's the one.

He pulled the gold and black card out, its silver lettering shining in the faint light. Perfect.

It was the only card of hers with a PIN number he knew— Alistair, his eldest brother's, birthday. Why it wasn't Peter's, Arthur would never know. The other cards were probably the same, but there was a small part of him, the one that knew his mother best, that told him that that wasn't the case.

A loud thump from the study— along with a loud curse— brought Arthur from his thoughts. He snapped the wallet shut, shoving it back into the purse and pulling the zipper closed, making sure neither were out of place.

He left the house the same way he entered— as quietly as possible. Arthur let out a sigh of relief as he pulled the front door shut, slowly guiding the storm door until he heard a familiar click.

Alfred's head snapped up as Arthur slid back into the car, his hands rising to grip the steering wheel. He looked at him expectantly.

Arthur glanced at Alfred, then back to his house, and then back to Alfred. When he spoke, his voice came out with a greater bite than he intended. "Drive."

Alfred pulled from the driveway slower than he wanted, Arthur constantly looking back at the front door. He waited for his mother to come stomping out, yelling his name, curses dropping from her mouth like bombs.

A true Kirkland, she was, even if not by blood.

"Where are we going?" Alfred didn't look at Arthur, his eyes slightly glazed. As if he had slid into auto-pilot.

Arthur's mind blanked. Though he would never admit it aloud, he didn't think he would get this far.

He let his head hit the headrest, letting out a huff of air. Rubbing his thumbnail along the silver lettering of the card, choices upon choices swarmed Arthur's head.

There weren't many options, considering what he wanted to buy. Not to mention that he'd never been in the stores that did sell what he was looking for.

He had to think of someplace, quick. But the only thing that came to mind…

Arthur turned towards Alfred. "Where's the nearest shopping mall?"

Alfred's eyes narrowed, his head slowly tilting to his side. As if he'd forgotten a tiny, minor detail about the town he's probably lived in for his entire life.

He hummed. "There's one about ten, maybe fifteen minutes or so away from here."

"Good. We're going."

Alfred muttered something under his breath, his words soft and musical. Arthur couldn't make out what he said, and something inside of him screamed that he would never want to.

The car ride itself was tense. Alfred continued to drive, not saying anything after the muttering, his eyes returning to that glassy sheen. Every so often, he would bop his head to a silent beat, his lips popping.

Arthur signed. How that fool hadn't gotten into a car accident by now, he nor the world would never know.

As soon as the car was set in park, he fumbled to unbuckle the seatbelt. A strange, terrible feeling shot up his spine, spanning across his shoulder blades and down his sides. He shivered, not caring if it was from the nerves or the fact that he wasn't wearing a coat. The adrenaline from earlier started to fade.

Not waiting to see if Alfred followed, Arthur stalked towards the mall entrance. He welcomed the heat as he pushed open the doors. It wasn't the oven that he had experienced prior, but not the ice of the outdoors, either.

The shopping mall itself was considerably average compared to others Arthur had been to. Two stories stacked up on top of each other, the middle of the second-floor opening to reveal the level below.

They came in through the food court, which was surprisingly barren for mid-December, even with it being a Monday afternoon. From his peripheral, he could see Alfred stare at a pretzel shop, its attendant with a bored look in her eye.

"I'm going to go on my own. You can go find something else to do."

Alfred whipped his head in his direction, his eyes growing wide with malcontent. "Are you serious?" Maybe it was the kicked puppy dog look about him, or the tone of disbelief in his words, that made guilt plague through him. Something he had been feeling without end today.

Arthur shrugged. "Why would you want to follow me around? Surely there are other shops here that you're interested in." Shops that hopefully weren't the same ones he was looking for. Looking at him, Alfred didn't seem the type. Not a single piercing hole marred his skin, the thought making Arthur's own scars itch.

Infuriatingly, Alfred bestowed upon him a cheeky grin. He lifted his hands behind his head in a stretch as he spoke, the short sleeves of his t-shirt sliding down. Alfred had forgone his jacket at his house, claiming that he would die if he had to wear it for another second.

"Well, what if I wanna go with you? See what kind of stuff you like shopping for." Alfred winked. "I can carry your bags for you, if you'd like."

Arthur didn't deign to give him a response, turning around and making his way for the nearest escalator. Whether or not Alfred was behind him, he didn't care.

The lower level of the mall was darker than the upper floor, something that felt so obvious that Arthur felt stupid for even thinking it. He scanned the area, clicking his tongue as he did so, searching for the spray-painted entrance of the store he saw online before arriving. He shook his head when he saw no results.

He continued his walk.

Arthur was aware of the fact that Alfred was behind him, if only because of the incessant whistling wiggling its way into his ears. It was in the tune of one of their songs in choir. The concert was next week, days before the start of winter break, the memory of what seemed like hundreds of laminated posters taped onto the walls entering his head.

"Hey, there's JCPenny, you wanna go in there?"

Arthur glanced at the department store, the one that just so happened to be one of his mother's favorites. He frowned upon seeing the rows of sweater and dress-clad mannequins. "No, I've already spent hours there."

They continued on, Alfred pointing out several stores and Arthur shaking his head. He could sense the ever-growing confusion of the former, the silent question in his words, but Arthur ignored it. Alfred would find out soon enough.

It wasn't until they reached one of the deserted wings of the mall that Arthur found what he was looking for. He began his stroll towards the entrance when Alfred stopped

Arthur turned to face him, eyebrows rising, beholding the mix of awe and slight horror in Alfred's eyes. " _This_ is what you've been looking for all this time?" The tone of pure disbelief in his voice sent Arthur cackling.

He didn't realize that it happened until he was in the middle of it. When his laughter died down, Arthur gave Alfred a small smirk. "This isn't even the start of it."

And with that, without giving Alfred the chance to reply, Arthur entered the store.

The attendant perked up as they walked in, giving Arthur an odd look. The ear-splitting music blasted away any thoughts swimming through his head. He nodded at the attendant, the heavily pierced man giving him a toothy grin in return. Arthur didn't turn to see if Alfred did the same.

He scanned the rows and rows of shredded clothing, occasionally turning a t-shirt to read the band name or other writing on it. Slowly, ever so slowly, Arthur began to pick the clothing off the racks. He laid them across his arm, and when he couldn't carry anymore, he handed the stack to Alfred and continued.

Alfred had to know that he was using him, he had to. The boy wasn't stupid, at least not as much as Arthur originally thought him to be. Surely he was able to see that Arthur wasn't going to give him anything in return.

Arthur scowled, glancing in Alfred's direction. The latter's horror had dissolved into a mild curiosity. He ran his fingertips along various fabrics, stopping to glance back at the attendant every few seconds. As if he were minutes away from getting stabbed repeatedly by his gauges and other piercings.

He couldn't help but chuckle.

Alfred glared at him, a small pout making its way to his lips. Arthur smirked, not seeing the glass cabinet until he smacked into it.

A small noise erupted from his mouth, a soft burn infecting his cheeks. He didn't bother looking at Alfred, who was no doubt grinning at him like a fiend.

Arthur looked at the offending case, the frown he held lifting into a grin. He put his hand against the glass, eyes darting up and down the rows upon rows of indented velvet. For the first time in what felt like months, Arthur felt himself genuinely smile.

They called over the attendant, who fished out a full keyring with a groan. He handed Arthur several pairs, which jingled as they hit his hand. Perfect.

They weren't exactly like the ones he used to have, but he'd manage. He ran his thumb over the metal. Anything that sends his mother into a rage would work.

And with that, Arthur continued his shopping. This wouldn't be their only stop, certainly not. Arthur turned towards Alfred, who flashed him a quick grin that told him he knew that that was the case.

He shook his head, clicking his tongue, his arms filled with various shades of blacks, reds, and greens. No, this alone would not do at all.

* * *

Arthur sat on the edge of his bed, a wooden sewing box lounging within his fingers. He ran his thumb along the grooves of the box before flicking it open, revealing its rose-embroidered insides.

He didn't stop to take a moment and absorb what he had seen thousands of times before, instead tossing around spools of thread and several red stuffed pin cushions.

It didn't take long before he found what he was looking for, one of many in a small pile at the very bottom.

Arthur picked up the sewing needle and held it to the light of his bedroom lamp. The metal barely shone under it, not that it mattered. He supposed that—

His thoughts froze to a halt at the sound of the hallway floor creaking. Arthur shot up from his seat, snapping the box shut and sliding it under his bed, not letting himself rest at ease until his door was locked.

His shoulders deflated when the footsteps stopped at Peter's room, followed by three curt knocks and a call for laundry. He would be next.

Arthur did what even the dumbest fools would do and locked the bathroom door leading to Peter's room from the inside.

He managed to sneak back into the house earlier this afternoon unnoticed, in addition to returning the borrowed credit card, the latter being the oddest of the bunch. With how much he ended up spending, the bank surely would've contacted his mother, leading to his certain death. At least, that was the plan.

She hadn't said anything to him at dinner last night, giving him a quick smile before asking Peter about conditioning. Barely acknowledged him before ignoring him for the rest of the evening.

Arthur shook his head, smacking his temples a couple times for good measure. Thinking about it wouldn't do him any good.

He crouched down in front of the cabinet under the sink, jumping back a little as he pulled it open. Taking no time at all to catch his breath, Arthur pushed past the stack of hand towels, pulling out a clear bottle of rubbing alcohol and setting it on top of the counter.

Arthur pushed himself up, grabbing the needle as he twisted off the bottle cap. He tipped the bottle to the side, dipping the needle in enough to wetten it before pulling it out.

He marked the two spots earlier, and even if he hadn't, the scars were still fairly visible enough that he would've been able to manage.

Pinching his lip, Arthur brought the needle to his marking, pushing it through. Pain webbed through his mouth but he didn't allow it to show, even with the fact that he was alone.

When he finally pulled the needle out, Arthur wiped the blood away with a towel, immediately sliding in one of the piercings he bought earlier. He repeated the process on the other side, after another dip in the alcohol.

Arthur let his hand fall, focusing in on his reflection in the mirror. He grazed his teeth along the metal and ran his tongue along the inner seam of his lip. He grinned.

Arthur Kirkland was back.

* * *

Just a heads up guys, I do not claim the ownership of JCPenney. That's more money than I'll ever see. Also, while I'm in the disclaimer paragraph, please do not do your own piercings. Go to an actual piercing parlor. Just because Arthur's a little shit, doesn't mean you have to be.

Anyways, onwards from that, Chapter Eighteen will be an exciting chapter! We will see the introductions of three new characters, two of those being relatives to Alfred. I, for one, am very excited for Addie. I think she'll make Arthur hate Rose even more, just from their contrast.

One last thing, I would like to thank my bestest friend Suey for beta-ing this chapter. She never really agreed to be my beta in the official sense, I just send her files and say, "Here. Read this."

Thank you guys so much for reading Cross Life Chapter Seventeen: The Comeback Kid. I hope to see you again for Chapter Eighteen: Rose In All Her Wisdom. Thank you, have an astronomical morning, day, and evening!


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